


La Belle et La Bête

by BardinHightown



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Slow Burn, basically a Solavellan twist on the classic fairy tale, set in 19th C France, the latter tag being related to a minor character and not a major plot point
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-07 04:27:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 127,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5443304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BardinHightown/pseuds/BardinHightown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Naia Lavellan would do almost anything to protect her family from the Dread Wolf, even if it means becoming his betrothed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve taken a lot of liberties with canon for this one, having not yet finished playing Inquisition and also for the sake of storytelling, being that this is an AU. Please keep that in mind and try not to leave spoilers in the comments! Thanks.  
> Also, all Elvhen belongs to Bioware and fenxshiral, not me!  
>  **As of early 2016:** I'm all caught up with Trespasser  
>  **As of September, 2016:** Minor edits are currently being made on older chapters. Please pardon the typos as I try to polish my writing for your reading pleasure!

**France, 1715**

**The Orlesian Forest**

 

_May the Dread Wolf never take you._

Levana could recall hearing that phrase countless times as a little girl, but now, at the age of fourteen (old enough to marry and yet still just a child), the memory of those words stung and mocked her. Her whole life had been spent preparing for and dreading the possibility that she would be faced with her current ill fortune. For years she’d hoped she could somehow avoid it, but the time had come, and she was the right age, just like every other fourteen to seventeen-year-old girl in her village that day. They had all gathered in one place and put their names into the lottery, and, to her misfortune, it had been her name that was drawn. That was three days ago.

Levana shivered as she lay in bed that winter night, contemplating what was to become of her in the morning. There would be no sleeping tonight; that was the only certainty. Her family and friends had all stayed by her side the past few days, trying their best to console her. They were being brave for her, she knew, but her parents could not hide their fear for their only child. They had barely stopped crying and holding her these past few days.

“Some say the Dread Wolf eats little girls,” she remembered one of her cousins telling her once, years ago. “He hungers for their flesh and blood, and if he doesn’t get some once every fifty years, he’ll go crazy! He’ll stomp and stomp and stomp around his castle until it creates a huge earthquake to destroy and flood our village.”

“He doesn’t _eat_ them!” another boy from their clan had piped up, “He _marries_ them.”

“That's silly. Why would he want to marry them? Girls are _stupid_.”

At the time, she’d been convinced her cousin was right, that Fen’Harel demanded this sacrifice every fifty years to sate his appetite for human flesh. But now she prayed with everything inside of her that he was wrong. She wasn’t exactly thrilled at the idea of becoming the Dread Wolf’s bride, either, but it had to be better than being eaten. Hadn’t it?

For the remainder of that night, she prayed to every god she knew for mercy from this terrible fate. Yet when she looked out her window as the sky began to finally lighten, she saw it there, waiting to take her away: a beautiful, majestic white halla. She realized with dread what this meant. In the stories, it was always a halla that guided the dead to the afterlife. Her life must now be over. 

Levana got out of bed and went to find her parents, prepared to say one final goodbye. When she found them, however, they were already awake. Curiously enough, they were dressed to travel, their bags packed and ready at their feet. 

“Mamae, Bae, what's going on? Are you going somewhere?”

Neither bothered with answers as her mother shoved her coat into her hands and her father said, “Quickly, we’ve no time to waste.”

Levana blinked at them for a second, uncomprehending, while her mother began to help her into her coat.

“Let’s go, Levana.”

“I don’t understand, where are we going? Are you coming with me to the castle?”

Her mother knelt down to look her in the eyes, giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze.

“No, _da’len,_ ” she responded solemnly, “No one is going to that castle. _Ever_ again. We are leaving the village this morning. _All_ of us.”

The next thing she knew, she was being ushered outside to find her entire clan standing outside of their homes, belongings in hand. Their Keeper was the only one absent, but it did not take him long to appear. He was visibly distressed.

“You can’t all be serious! This is our home! Will none of you remain here?”

Her father looked angrier than she’d ever seen him as he made his way over to approach his elder.

“How many more girls have to be sacrificed for this gods-forsaken land, _hah’ren_? How many?!”

“The gods have not forsaken this land,” Keeper Belraj retorted, “It is you who forsake the gods this day. They gave us this land, and it has always blessed us in abundance.”

“This place is no blessing,” her father spat back. “All of the other Dalish have adapted to life as travellers; it is time we do the same!”

“No, it is not! This is the last piece of land we Elvhen have left to claim. The shemlen have taken _everything_ from us. We can not lose this, too!”

“Open your eyes, Belraj! This land is already lost!”

Keeper Belraj looked desperate, but stood his ground.

“As your Keeper I forbid you to leave!”

It was the only card the man had left to play, and it no longer held any weight. Levana’s father simply laughed, but there was no humor in his voice.

“I should have known you wouldn’t understand. Keepers cannot have families of their own. Well, the rest of us refuse to let Fen’Harel steal away our daughters any longer!”

There were shouts of approval from among the other clansmen. Keeper Belraj realized, to his dismay, that he was terribly outnumbered. He hung his head low in defeat and muttered a single word.

“Go." 

And they did, as quickly as they could, not one of them looking back.

 

 


	2. Chapter One

**One hundred years later…**

           

“Dread Wolf take me!” 

The young Dalish woman threw her hands up in frustration. “I give up,” she cried.

There was a collective groan in response from a massive lump shifting beneath the covers of the bed in front of her. She placed her hands on her hips.

“It is past ten o’clock already, girls. Why in Mythal’s name aren’t you two out of bed yet?”

A muffled voice called out, “Five more minutes,” and Naia shook her head at that, but a small smile crept across her face.

“Oh, I’ll give you five more minutes,” she said with a hint of mischief in her voice. She then proceeded to climb on top of the massive lump. There was a squeak from one half of it and a yelp from the other half. Naia laughed triumphantly.

“Oh, look at this comfy bed I’ve got all to myself! I sure am glad Nehna and Enasta are not here!” she shouted gleefully as she rolled back and forth.

A whining chorus of “Naia!” came from beneath her and she braced herself as her sisters pushed against her weight. She grabbed the corners of the blanket and rolled off of the bed along with it, smiling victoriously. 

“I win. Now come on, it is a beautiful day on the farm! I’ll whip up some breakfast for you real quick, then we can get to work!” 

“But it’s winter!” Enasta complained.

“Oh, hush. You know that there is always work to be done here, even this time of year. Now hurry and get dressed!” And with that, Naia stole out of the room, blanket still in hand, before her sisters could protest further.

 

* * *

 

Breakfast was eggs and some unfortunate stale bread with butter. Naia stifled a yawn as she filled up her sisters’ plates, suddenly wishing she could afford the luxury of that miracle elixir known as coffee. She had been up since five in the morning. Sleeping in was another luxury she could not afford, unlike her sisters. Fortunately, she always had help from her father and little brother.

The past two weeks had been different, however. Her father was away on an important trip, so she'd had to take charge of things in his absence. This was nothing new for Naia, though. Taking care of the household had been her responsibility ever since their mother passed away nearly a decade ago.

“Do you think Father will return home today?” the younger of her sisters asked between bites of food.

“I hope so, Nehna.”

Their father had gone to find their clan, which changed location on a regular basis, so there was no telling how many days that journey would take. It had been seven years since their family was banished from Clan Lavellan, and now he was returning to plead for Keeper Deshanna’s blessing to come home.

The loss of Sileal Lavellan’s wife had taken its toll on the man, and things had never been the same. In the beginning, it had been an overindulgence in alcohol, but before long he'd found Keeper Deshanna's lyrium supply. The blue, crystal-like substance was kept on hand for use in sacred rituals, never to be touched by anyone but the Keeper. But Naia had been named Deshanna's First when she turned eighteen, and she had been given a key to access the Keeper's belongings as well. It had broken Naia’s heart to discover her father had stolen that key from her one night. In the end she was the one who suffered the most for it, losing her right to be Clan Lavellan's future Keeper.

In the seven years since the banishment, her father had made a full recovery from his lyrium addiction, and he and his children had built a pretty good life for themselves on their humble farm. But now the farm was losing profits, and a particularly bad storm had left some of their property in shambles. They did not have the funds to make repairs, and Naia’s father felt the time had come for him and his children to return to their rightful home. Deshanna had, after all, banished their whole family not as a punishment but for the sake of Sileal's health, and she had promised they could return, one day.

“When we rejoin our clan, will they make me get my vallaslin now that I am eighteen?” Enasta questioned when she had finished eating. Naia nodded.

“Just like every other Dalish your age. I hope you will wear it proudly, like me.”

“Mm, your Ghilan’nain design is cute, but I really like Mythal’s writing when done on the sides of the eyes,” Enasta said, gesturing to her own eyes.

“I think they’re both ugly! They can't make me agree to it next year,” Nehna added, folding her arms.

“This is not about looking cute or pretty, girls. It is about honoring our culture and the gods," Naia chided. " _Creators_ , you've been away from the clan for too long! I do hope Father returns soon with the good news already.”

 _Gods_ , Naia thought, _you can take the girl out of being a First but you cannot take the First out of the girl._

Sometimes she wondered if she was better off having her life as a First taken from her. The Second of their clan had been pleased at the loss of competition. Anverelan had never liked being second to a woman. But now all of the pressure and duty and responsibility belonged to him. It actually felt freeing, if Naia was being completely honest.

In truth, she had really only jumped at the opportunity to become a First because she wanted to learn magic, not to become a Keeper. And while the traditions of Elvhen magic had largely been lost, the Keepers of each clan were committed to rediscovering the craft. That is what drew Naia in, ultimately. But she had been a little disappointed when the famous Dalish art of fortune telling was not all she had hoped it would be. She suspected the art was really practiced not for its importance to their people or its accuracy, but for its, well, fortune. The shemlen who lived nearby loved to have their fortunes told by those "Bohemians with the painted faces" and would pay lots of money to be told things they wanted to hear. Still, Naia desired to discover more of the ancient craft of her people. She knew that magic was real; it had to be. Her mother had always taught her that anything was possible. One simply had to go out and find it.

Naia had just finished cleaning up her sisters’ dirty dishes when her little brother burst through the front door. The fourteen-year-old looked out of breath, but he was grinning from ear to ear.

“Laleal, what is it?” Naia asked, but she already knew the answer.

“Father is back! And you won’t believe what he's brought with him!”

Naia followed her brother out the front door only to be met with the strange sight of her father riding what appeared to be a halla. Strange, because halla were believed to be extinct.

“ _Iovro’bae_!” Nehna was the first to call out, running joyfully to greet her “Papa Bear.” Naia followed and helped him off his mount.

“Welcome home, Father,” she said, unable to keep from laughing with glee. She eyed their new guest, the gentle white creature he'd brought home with him. “I don’t know if you realized this, but your horse appears to have transformed while you were away.” Sileal did not laugh with his daughter, however, and instead proceeded to hug and kiss each of his children, spending a little extra time on his youngest daughter in particular.

“ _Iovro’bae_ , is everything alright?” Nehna asked him.

“I have much to tell you, _da’ean_. But first, let’s go inside.”

 

* * *

 

After getting indoors and settled, Sileal prepared to tell his children the story of his bizarre journey. Naia leaned against the wall as her siblings sat on the floor surrounding their father’s chair, a favorite position for story time when they were all much younger.

“Before I begin, I have some presents for you,” he started.

Naia's brow raised at this. “You really brought us presents?”

Before he left, Sileal had asked his children if they would like him to bring anything back from his journey. Enasta had been the first to ask for something, instantly requesting he bring her some pretty jewelry. A reasonable request, as there were a few women in Clan Lavellan who made bracelets and necklaces. But Enasta had begged for him to bring her something big and shiny, like the gemstones shemlen women wore around their necks.

“If Enasta gets to have jewelry then I want something even better,” Nehna had declared. “Just bring me a wealthy husband who will buy me all the pretty jewels I want!" 

“Alright," Sileal had laughed, "I will bring Enasta her pretty jewels and Nehna her wealthy husband. What about Laleal?”

Laleal had taken time to think about his answer. "I know! I want enough gold to repair our farm.”

“But we’re leaving the farm. What do you want to repair it for?” Nehna had questioned.

“So we can sell it to another family like us, of course!” Laleal had replied. “Someone has got to take care of the goats and the hens.” He'd smiled, then, proud of himself. Naia suspected that Laleal loved this farm even more than she did, sometimes. But then, they had moved here when he was still a small child. He didn’t remember life before the farm quite as well as the rest of them.

“Jewels, husband, gold. Check. And what about my firstborn, my Beauty?” Sileal had asked (for Naia’s mother had named her the Elvhen word for beauty).

“Well, as long as we are all asking for impossible things, then I suppose I, too, will ask for something,” she'd answered. “Something impossible, but ordinary and of little value. If you happen across an embrium flower, would you bring it to me?” Her father had laughed at that, for he knew as well as she that embriums did not grow this time of year.

“I shall bring you back a whole garden full of them.”

And then, for extra measure, he'd actually made a list and put it in his pocket so that he would not forget.

But now he appeared to have actually brought something back for his children. Sileal reached into the left pocket of his trousers and gradually began pulling out gold coin after gold coin, tossing each one to his son. Laleal’s eyes were as big and round as the coins he caught, and soon they were spilling out of his hands.

“This is way more than enough money to repair our farm!”

Enasta and Nehna were beside themselves with joy. “We’re rich!”

“Where did this come from, Father?” Naia asked. It seemed too good to be true, or at least legal.

“That will soon become clear, but let me finish giving my gifts. Now, for Enasta.” He reached into his right pocket and pulled out a beautiful gold necklace decked in several small dawnstones surrounding one large bloodstone. Enasta’s jaw dropped.

“Oh, Father, it’s _perfect_!”

Sileal turned to his oldest daughter next.

“Got an embrium flower in those magic pockets of yours, too?” she joked, though at this point she would not be surprised if he did. He instead reached into a satchel around his waist and indeed presented his daughter with a single embrium flower.

“Something impossible, yet ordinary and without value… an embrium flower in winter, like you asked. My child, if you believe in magic like I know you do, then you know that anything is possible. So believe me when I say that obtaining the jewels and the gold was far easier than obtaining this flower. And the price was far too high….” he trailed off, looking despondent. 

“What’s wrong, Father?” Nehna asked.

“Father, what exactly happened to you out there? Where did all of these gifts come from?” Naia questioned.

“Well,” he began, and his children sat up straight, fully attentive. “First, finding Clan Lavellan did not take as long as I thought it would. As soon as the shemlen saw my marked face they pointed me in the direction of a nearby Dalish tribe. After investigating, I came across Clan Sabrae.”

“Oh! How is Merrill?” Naia could not stop herself from interrupting. As a child, Clan Sabrae and Clan Lavellan had spent a few years travelling together. She and another young girl from the neighboring clan had become fast friends during that time, having shared much in common.

“She's first of her clan, now. And she says ‘ _savhalla_.’ She misses her dear childhood friend.”

“As do I,” Naia remarked.

“Anyway, I spoke with Keeper Marethari. She happened to know the recent whereabouts of our clan, which fortunately was not too far. I told her of our situation and she brought to my attention some unfortunate news. It would seem that Keeper Deshanna passed away a few months ago.”

Naia's face fell. Deshanna had been almost like a mother to her after her own mother had died.

“I am sorry, _asha'lan_ ,” her father offered, “But I’m afraid the news is only about to get worse.” Naia braced herself. What in the name of all of the Creators at once could be worse than _that_? “Before I left Clan Sabrae, Marethari offered to have Merrill do a reading for me and I accepted. The first card she drew was the card of Fortune.”

“Well, we already know that came true,” Laleal pointed out with a grin.

He cleared his throat. "Yes, well. The next card she drew was The Bride.”

“Oh good, I was beginning to feel left out,” Nehna chimed in, “Looks like I may get my gift after all!”

“I am afraid this is nothing to celebrate, _da’ean_ ,” Sileal continued. “The final card drawn…” He hesitated, looking genuinely terrified. Naia grabbed his hand, thinking of all the possible cards that could have brought him to behave this way. 

“Father, no! Tell me it was not Falon’Din.” The card of Death. What else could he be dreading so much? Except…

“Worse; it was Fen’Harel.” The Dread Wolf. Naia shuddered at the name. Among the Dalish, there was nothing worse than being visited by the Dread Wolf, not even death. In her days as a First she had learned to say prayers to the Great Protector and craft amulets of protection from Fen’Harel. Had all of that hard work been for nothing?

“Merrill interpreted that we would soon be visited by wealth, followed by a wedding, and then… and then by the Dread Wolf himself,” Sileal continued.

“I don’t believe it,” Enasta claimed. “So the first card came true, so what? There is no such thing as the Dread Wolf anyway,” she said as if this were obvious to all.

“Enasta!” Naia chided. But Nehna was nodding her head in agreement.

“What?” Enasta continued, “It’s just a story they tell little children to make them behave. Watch out! The Dread Wolf’s going to get you!” And she made her hands look like claws, reaching out for Laleal. Laleal and Nehna laughed.

“Enough!” Sileal shouted and the room grew silent. “This is no laughing matter, children. Let me finish my story.”

“Sorry, Father."

He took a deep breath. “After Merrill finished her reading, Marethari pointed me towards the location of our clan. A few days later I reached them. Keeper Anverelan greeted me rather coldly, but I figured he was probably still shaken up over the loss of Deshanna. Yet when I made my appeal to him, he rejected it." 

 _“What?”_   Naia was completely taken aback. “How can he do this? Deshanna promised us we could come home!”

“And as Keeper, Anverelan can revoke that promise. He is a foolish and bitter man, unfit to lead our people. But I did my best to plead with him, even asking him to just take my children instead of me.”

“And?”

“Naia, he agreed to let us all return on one condition, and you are not going to like it. He wants you to marry him." 

Naia was speechless. It was a longheld tradition that Keepers could not marry, for various reasons. Something to do with focusing on one's spiritual duties. It wasn’t a belief Naia fully agreed with, but she was not one to question tradition. She respected her people and their beliefs. Clearly Anverelan did not. It was sacrilege, and she would not be a part of it.

"I told him, of course, that you would not agree to it," Sileal continued, "but he said to tell you it was the only way.”

Naia knew exactly what had spurred this on, this blasphemy. She and Anverelan had spent a lot of time together, studying under Deshanna. During that time, he'd noticed that Naia was beautiful in more than just name. He took her kindness for affection and was convinced they'd make a good pair. Since Naia was to be Keeper, she'd politely rejected his advances. But the idea of a forbidden love only encouraged Anverelan more. Naia reminded him that she had a clan and a family to take care of, and little time for much else. Anverelan took this personally, and there had been a rift between the two of them ever since.

“Father, I am sorry, but you know I cannot do this. I thought I would do just about anything to go home, but I cannot turn my back on our people like that,” Naia apologized.

“I know that, and you must know that I would _never_ force any of my children to marry someone they did not want, as long as I can help it.” He looked at Nehna as he said this.

“Of course, Father.”

“I don’t understand, what’s so bad about a Keeper getting married anyway?” Enasta questioned. “If it means we can go back home, then what’s the problem? Just marry the man; he’ll probably make you First again. So you see, in the end, we all win.”

“It’s the principle of it, Enasta. I did not spend years under Deshanna’s training with that man just so he could spit all over everything she taught us now that she is gone. And besides, the fact that he took back Deshanna’s promise and won’t let us come home is despicable! How could I marry such a person?”

“I don’t know, but the cards did say there would be a wedding,” Laleal pointed out.

“ _My_ wedding!” Nehna reminded him.

“Children, please. There is still more to tell,” Sileal interjected.

“Right, like where did all of the gold come from?” Laleal suggested.

“Yes, the gold. Well, on my way home I fell upon some bad luck. I got lost in the woods, and on one particularly snowy night, something spooked my horse. He threw me from him and after I hit the ground, he ran off.”

“Oh, _iovro’bae_! Were you badly hurt?” Nehna asked.

“My right leg was damaged, but I was able to limp forward. I was exhausted, though, and the winds were picking up strong. I was lost in the middle of the woods, all alone. I thought I was going to die out there in the snow. But then I saw her.”

“Who was it, Father?” Laleal asked.

“The last thing I remember seeing before I passed out was the halla. I thought I had died and it was here to carry me over to the other side.”

“Oh, Father…”

“Do not worry, for there is some good news to come, at least," he offered. "When I awoke, I found myself in the largest bed I'd ever seen, covered in lush blankets and surrounded by the softest cushions. My wounds had been bandaged and were almost fully healed. There was a fire in the fireplace that was dying out and I had clean clothes laid out for me. As I was changing, I felt something in my pockets. Sure enough, there were the gold coins and the jewelry. I could hardly believe what I was seeing. I left the room and found myself in a long hallway. As I walked the length of it, the candelabras on the wall lit up, guiding my steps as if by magic.”

Laleal had been wide-eyed this entire time, but now it was Naia’s turn. Enchanted candles? Surely he had been imagining things.

“I came to a grand staircase which I descended, then I explored the ground level of what was clearly a rather large castle. I figured it must belong to some shemlen lord, which was most curious. Between the shem's war on nobility, then restoring the nobility, I cannot keep up with their strange behaviors.... But I assumed whoever this lord was still had great power and wealth, so I thought I would find him and thank him for his generosity and hospitality. I came across a dining room with an elongated table, and at the head of it there was a place set already, with the most savory-smelling foods prepared. I was ravenous, and so I sat and devoured it all. My cup was filled with wine and every time I took a sip from it, it seemed to magically refill itself."

"Really, Father? Are you sure you weren't pouring the wine yourself?" Naia asked. Given her father's history with alcohol, she worried his memory at this point was unreliable.

"Of course I'm sure! I know what I saw," her father assured her. "Anyhow, after that I wandered the castle some more, looking for the master of the estate, but everywhere I looked was empty and quiet. So when I arrived back in the main hall, I called out. No one appeared, but a voice answered me from somewhere above. It was smooth and gentle, and it welcomed me to his home. I thanked him for all that he had done and he said that it was nothing. He’d seen that I lost all of my belongings including my horse, and he told me that I could keep the gold and the jewels if I liked, and also to let him know if I required anything else. At that point I was so filled with emotions of gratitude that tears began to well up in my eyes. I explained to him that I was on my way home from a trip in which I’d learned that I was to lose my home, and that my family and I had nothing and nowhere to go. With the money he gave us, we could rebuild our lives, and my daughters and son could have a future again. I told him that I was a simple farmer and so I had nothing to offer him in return that he did not seem to already have. He ensured me that my gratitude was enough, except that while he already had everything he needed in life, he was terribly lonely. And I….” he trailed off.

“What is it, Father?” Nehna asked.

“I made a mistake, _da'ean_. I told him that I had three unwed daughters, and that I could promise him the hand of one of the three.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Laleal asked. “You did promise to bring Nehna a husband, after all.”

“Yes, I did, and that’s precisely what I was thinking when I made the offer, otherwise I would have done no such thing! But the invisible Lord accepted. He told me to take the halla to return home, because it is an enchanted creature that can go anywhere one wants. All you need to do is whisper in her ear: _take me to my heart’s desire._ Then, when my daughter is ready, he said, she must also do the same so that the halla can bring her safely back to the castle.”

“So Nehna, are you excited to meet your invisible husband?” Enasta asked, giggling.

“Hush,” Nehna responded, “But… did you not see his face at all, Father? What if he’s ugly? What if he’s old?”

“I hadn’t finished. I did see his face, yes. Only I wish I hadn’t. I wish a lot of things had not happened.”

“Well, what _did_ happen?” Laleal asked.

“Was he disfigured?” Enasta suggested.

“Quiet!” Naia scolded.

“It was as I was leaving the castle," Sileal continued. "I walked outside and was met by the most beautiful gardens. Then I spotted a bed of embrium flowers, and I remembered my list. I had retrieved all but Naia’s gift. I was not thinking of the consequences of taking something without asking permission, so I just… took it. And the next thing I knew, I was knocked off my feet by a strong force, lying on my back and staring into three pairs of vicious red eyes.”

 

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What could possibly be about to happen? Hmm?
> 
> translations:  
> Iovro'bae - Papa Bear  
> savhalla - hello  
> asha'lan - daughter  
> Da'ean - little bird  
> (credit: Project Elvhen)
> 
> \--as of 2017, I adjusted Sileal's story a bit to give more of a feel for the time period this is taking place in France. Yes, it is post-Revolution, but in 1815, the monarchy and aristocracy had been (temporarily) restored. Sileal being Dalish, however, I figure he would not know everything about that, just whispers and stories. Coming across a castle in France during this time, he would not be 100% certain what to find. At this point, monarchy and castles were already starting to become a thing of the past, I think. I thought it brought a more mysterious element to the story than say, finding a castle in France pre-revolution.  
> Just a little something for you historophiles. (Please correct me if I am wrong on any of this.)


	3. Chapter Two

“You’re putting us on, aren’t you, Father?” Laleal asked. 

“Yes, aren’t you? I can’t be betrothed to a beast!” Nehna cried.

“No one is betrothed to anything," Naia said. "Didn’t you hear Father before? He would never force any of us to marry against our will. Especially not to the Dread Wolf.”

“I believe my exact words were _if I could help it_ ,” Sileal noted, “But I am afraid circumstances have led me to a place of helplessness.” He looked downward, defeated. “I am sorry, children, but once the Dread Wolf has made a decision, there is no changing his mind...."

Naia shook her head, refusing to accept any such defeat. “Father, how can you say that?"

“You asked for an ordinary gift, without value. How could I have known that a single flower would be missed? I took it for granted, something which was never mine to take in the first place. The Beast advanced on me. He called me thief, said that he had been generous with me, and I'd spat in his face by taking something that had not been given. Such a crime is deserving of a fitting punishment, he said. I took the flower, so in return he will take my daughter, just as I'd promised. Only, and these were his exact words: I will _never see her again."_

_“What?”_

“He can’t do that!” Laleal declared, but their father shook his head sadly.

“I’m afraid he can. He may not be a shemlen, but this is still France. The Lord of a castle determines the law of the land, does he not? He is within his right to punish me. He said he would find me and lock me away unless I sent one of my daughters to him instead. He also promised to make my stay...” Sileal hesitated, looking for the right descriptor, “ _unpleasant_." 

_“Bastard!”_

“Laleal!” Naia chided instantly, but she found herself agreeing wholeheartedly with his sentiment.

“How can he do this?” Laleal was standing now, his hands balled into fists and his face red with anger. Naia had never seen her usually carefree little brother so outraged. “He tricked you, Father! It’s not fair!”

“I know, _ara iovru_.”

“What are we going to do?” Nehna was quietly sobbing. “I don’t want to marry him.”

Sileal reached over and put his arms around his little girl. She buried her face in his shoulder.

“You won’t, _da’ean_ ,” he said while petting her hair, “I promise you that. Because I am going to turn myself in instead.”

“Father, you can’t!” Enasta protested.

“And you would have your sister go instead? Or would _you_ rather be the one?”

“Of course not! I… I don’t know,” Enasta replied, defeated. Naia took a deep breath to calm herself, unable to watch her family be torn up over this terror that had befallen them. If someone had to go, she was sure as hell not going to let it be any of them. The answer was obvious. It was terribly, horribly obvious.

“We can’t let you go, Father. Who knows what kind of torture he has in store for you if you do that? Let me go instead,” she suggested. “I am the oldest; I am responsible for the safety of my family.” He could not deny that even if he wanted to. She'd assumed that responsibility a long time ago, and she wasn't about to stop now.

Sileal reached out one hand from its place in his youngest daughter's hair to cup his firstborn's cheek.  “Oh, Naia. My dear girl. You have already done so much for this family. It is time someone else made a sacrifice for you, instead. Namely, me.” Naia began to protest, but he ignored her. “Yes, it has to be me. I have failed this family during a time when it needed me most; now is my chance to make it up to you. It is my fault we cannot return to our clan.”

“No, it is _not_ your fault! Yes, you did fail us once, but you have come so far since then, overcome so much! You did everything that was asked of you; it is Anverelan’s fault that we cannot go home now. And anyway it doesn’t matter, because home is here now. So please… don’t leave.” Her voice cracked on the last word, betraying her feelings of desperation.

“And let the Dread Wolf take one of my children? Never!” Sileal’s eyes were glistening as he spoke fervently. “My daughter, you must have courage. You are the one that has been holding this family together all this time. You survived losing one parent once… you will survive this, too. You are the strongest person I know, and I am so proud of you.” As he finished saying this, a tear rolled down his cheek. Naia started to reach over and dry it, when she felt a sudden wetness on her own cheeks. She hastily turned away and wiped her face with the back of her hand.

She may have been the strongest person he knew, but she was tired of being strong. He told her to have courage, and she could not afford to lose it. But she could not just stand by and lose her father, either. Naia was torn as she turned back to him, holding herself together and trying to appear like the brave young woman he'd raised.

“Alright, Father. I understand.”

She understood, but she would not accept it.

 

* * *

 

It was decided that on the morning of the third day, Sileal would leave for Fen’Harel’s castle. Tears of grief turned to those of anger that night as Naia laid awake in her bed, thinking of what the Dread Wolf had done to her family. For years, she had worked hard to protect them from him, but all of her efforts had proven fruitless in the end. Except… Except there was still one way that she could protect them.

She made a decision in that moment, lying in bed with her fists balled up in the covers and hot tears running down her cheeks. She knew what she had to do. Tomorrow night she would rise before dawn and sneak off to the castle. She had already heard the password needed for the halla to take her there. All she needed to do was leave a note apologizing to her family and explaining that it was the only way. She would remind them that she could take care of herself, and that now she just needed them to take care of themselves for her.

That night she dreamt she was riding the enchanted halla. It took her back home, to Clan Lavellan, to a familiar-looking tent. Inside she found her mother, who looked up as she entered and smiled warmly. She looked exactly the way Naia remembered her. That comforting smile lit up large, similarly smiling brown eyes that were surrounded on either side by thin green lines of vallaslin, an homage to the goddess Mythal.

“I have been waiting for you, _da’halla_.”

Naia wanted to cry, to run straight to her mother’s arms and bawl like a little child, but, as is often the case with dreams, she found that she was not in control of her actions. Instead, her mother reached out a hand to her and she found herself taking it. She led Naia outside, where they were no longer in their camp, but a vast forest. There were no pathways she could see but her mother seemed to know exactly where she was going. And then suddenly they were standing in front of a tall mirror, only the mirror was shattered. She could still make out a reflection, for the most part, but all she saw was a halla staring back at her. When she turned around she saw that her mother was gone, and as she turned back she realized that the reflected image of the halla was mimicking her actions. Just like the goddess Ghilan’nain, whose blood writing she wore proudly, she too had become a halla.

And then she caught in the reflection behind her a glimpse of black fur and red eyes. She did not have time to run as she turned to face her predator. The wolf lunged at her, and that was the last thing she remembered before she woke up.

 

* * *

 

On the third morning, Naia placed the damned embrium flower her father had given her on top of a hastily-scribbled letter to her family. She willed herself not to look back as she quickly but quietly exited the farmhouse and mounted the waiting halla. 

She held tight to the beautiful creature and leaned forward against it, placing her hands on its antlers for support. She braced herself as she whispered the magic words in its ear.

“Take me to my heart’s desire.”

The halla took off, and everything around them seemed to blur. They were not riding through the woods, but rather the woods were riding past them, and at an alarming pace. Yet Naia never felt the wind whipping past her, nor did any leaves or branches seem to get in their way. It was as if they were floating inside some sort of protective bubble, moving ever faster. And then before she knew it, they were riding just above the surface of a lake. They were moving so fast they might have actually been running on water; Naia could hardly tell.

When they reached the shore, the halla slowed to a stop, and Naia took that as her cue to dismount. She was met with the sight of an enormous castle on a hill. It was clearly old—medieval, at least—though the architecture was like none she'd seen before in any book. Perhaps it was ancient? Yet it was strangely not in ruins. Displayed in front were tall banners, indicating to whom the land belonged: the image of a great black wolf greeted her with fangs bared, ready to attack any unwanted trespassers.

As she grew closer, she eyed the foliage surrounding the walkway that led straight to the castle; individual gardens, she discovered upon closer inspection, separated by tall hedges. It looked as if one could get lost among them. She stuck to the main path instead, and along the way she spied the bed of embriums from which her father had taken hers. All this for one little flower.

The front door loomed in front of Naia as she approached, like an unwanted present waiting to be opened even though disappointment was imminent. It was massive—too big to have been designed with a human being in mind—complete with intricate, abstract designs carved into the woodwork and a metal knocker designed to look like the head of a menacing wolf. Naia remained unintimidated as she reached out to grab the knocker, but to her surprise the door creaked open by itself.

 _Honestly, what is the point of even having a knocker?_ she thought as she crossed the threshold into her new life.

A new life; this was it. The feeling of leaving everything she knew behind was not new to Naia, after being banished from her own clan, and her people were accustomed to moving around anyhow. This was just one new (and, unfortunately, final) home for her to adopt. She knew she could handle this. What she did not know was if she could handle _him_ ….

The door closed behind her, rather loudly, as if to emphasize that there was no turning back now.

“Alright, alright, no need to be dramatic,” she found herself complaining aloud. She did not particularly care if the Dread Wolf heard her. She might not have been sure if she could handle him, but she would be damned if she did not at least try.

“Hello?” she called out as she took in the sight of the main hall. It was large and empty, and eerily quiet except for the sound of her voice echoing off the walls and remarkably high ceiling. She had never been in such an enormous building in her life, and she suddenly felt very small.

She heard movement at the top of the staircase and a moment later the Dread Wolf appeared, in all his glory. The Beast stood at least six, maybe seven feet tall on all fours, a monstrous being indeed. He could probably leap from the top of the staircase and kill her instantly with a single swipe of his great paw. If he wanted to, that is.

“Do not fear,” he spoke. His voice startled her, but only because it was unexpectedly smooth, like velvet. His six, blood-red eyes were trained on her, but he stood motionless, hesitant. She felt her entire body tense, and did her best to relax. She should be frightened, she knew, but she was determined not to let him see her like that. Not now, during their very first meeting. She wondered briefly if he could smell fear.

“I am not afraid,” she simply said, careful to keep her voice steady as she tried her best to put on a brave face. She must have looked ridiculous, because he threw back his enormous head in that moment and laughed. It was loud, and hearty, and at first she mistook it for a howl.

“Are you certain of that?” he asked.

Naia chose not to respond to that. No matter what he might say or do, she knew that she mustn't let this Beast intimidate her. She had no idea what to expect from him, of course, but she would not be easily defeated. She held his gaze.

"My name is Naia, formerly of Clan Lavellan, if there are to be introductions,” she offered, remembering her manners. He nodded his great head.

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Naia.” His voice was so rich and so gentle that she almost believed him, and yet she could hardly say the same to him. "I believe you already know my name."

“So how does this work?” She asked, getting straight to business.

“Follow me,” he replied. When she did not move from her spot, he continued, “I will show you to your room so that you may get settled.”

Naia tentatively ascended the stairs and obeyed the Beast as he turned his back on her and headed down a long, dark hallway. Thoughts of turning back subsided as she remembered that it was her choice to come here in the first place and she was already in far too deep. As they walked, the candelabras on either side of them lit up, just the way her father had described. She frowned, thinking of him, and of how she didn’t even properly say goodbye. 

The trek was uncomfortably quiet and seemed to take an eternity. Naia tried to take note of the directions as they turned down hallway after hallway, but every turn brought more of the same plain, stone walls that went on forever. When they were finally in front of her room, the Dread Wolf stopped, and she nearly bumped into him, having gotten lost in her thoughts after a while. He turned to her.

“You will find that you have all basic requirements provided for you. The castle is enchanted to care for its inhabitants’ every need. You shall not be bothered during the daytime, and you are free to roam about as you please. The candles that light your path will always guide you back to your room should you find yourself lost. My sole request is that you join me for dinner at seven o’ clock each evening.” And with that, he began to walk away.

“…That’s it?” Naia found herself saying aloud. Surely he had more in store for her, and she intended to figure out what that was before he sprung it upon her. For all she knew, “dinner” meant he was to be feasting on her that night!

He turned back to her, studying her, his own face expressionless (but then, being a wolf, he had limited facial expressions). She stared him down.

“Were you expecting something else?” he asked.

“I’m… not sure what I expected, to be honest,” she admitted.

“Then I will see you at dinner.”

 

* * *

 

The bedroom was larger than the farmhouse's bedrooms combined. Naia looked around in awe of her new living space. There was a pleasant smell about the room which she instantly recognized as embriums. At the foot of the bed she spied a vase full of them. It only reminded her of the reason she was here, and she wanted to toss the thing right out the window. But she knew she could not let it bother her. She must be strong. She was here to protect her family, not to trash the Dread Wolf's castle.

From the size of the four poster bed that stood directly in the center of the room, Naia thought she might drown in it. Instead, she jumped onto it instinctually, and the softest cushioning broke her fall. She was tempted to take a nap right there and then, to forget about her woes for a few short, sweet hours. Instead she got up, and decided she ought to waste no time in exploring the castle. She needed to be alert and aware of her surroundings at all times. But her stomach grumbled as she stood, and she remembered that she hadn't had anything to eat since last night. Perhaps there was a fully stocked kitchen somewhere, if her "every need," as her captor had put it, included cooking supplies.

She did her best to follow the hallways back to where she came from. Her journey seemed to take even longer this time around. With scarcely few windows to let in the natural daylight, the halls were dim and dreary. Her footsteps echoed emptily off the stone walls, reminding her of how truly alone she was. She pushed the feeling away and focused on the task at hand, eventually finding her way back to the ground floor.

She came upon the dining hall first. It was enormous, and as soon as she set foot inside of it, a few plates full of food appeared at the head of the table. She walked right past, turning her nose up as she made her way to the end of the room and through a small door that led to the kitchen. She did not need to eat some enchanted food, no matter how great it smelled. She had hands; she could cook for herself.

The only problem was, the cabinets and icebox were completely empty! Oh, there were pots and pans, slotted spoons, and other cooking equipment, but there was nothing to cook. It was like living in a ghost house. The kitchen and utensils must have been used at some time in the past, but now they had no reason to exist. How sad. She wondered if she was permitted out into the gardens, or if there were any animals living on the castle grounds or fish in the lake. There must be, or else where did the food come from? Was it even real? She frowned as she resigned herself to return to the dining room.

Upon tasting the mysterious food, Naia's mood greatly improved. She was certain she had never tasted anything so delicious in her entire life, and she had to pace herself as she tried a little bit of each dish. Eggs and fish, bacon and fresh-baked baguettes with butter and jam! She reached for her cup and slowly sipped the dark liquid inside. It was hot and bitter, and its warmth spread all the way to her toes. It instantly perked her up, and she knew this must be the divine drink they called coffee.

The remainder of the day was spent tirelessly studying the many, labyrinthine hallways of the castle, not even bothering to stop for food. She had not even gotten past the second floor before a distant clock's chime told her it was time for dinner. By then she had grown weary from running about, and she was absolutely dreading this evening.

Her enormous new home was overwhelming, to say the least. And yet, at the same time it was restraining, more prison than home. Growing up as a Dalish, she was accustomed to living outdoors and sleeping under the stars. She was also accustomed to moving her home from forest to forest, never staying in one place for too long. To be stuck in this place now, never able to go anywhere else for the rest of her days was frustrating at _best_. But she would not let it break her spirit. She was determined to make the most of her time here. So far, things were not going as terribly as she had anticipated. That Beast (for she did not wish to even _think_ his name) had told her to do as she pleased, for now. Perhaps it was simply to give her a false sense of security, though. She tried not to think about it as she headed back to the dining hall for the second time that day.

 

* * *

 

The Beast was seated at the head of the table when she entered the room; that is to say, the chair at that end was so large that his monstrous body could fit on the entire seat of it. He nodded in acknowledgement to her arrival but said nothing.

A place had been set for her on the side of the long table, close enough to him so that they might converse without shouting, and far enough that Naia would remain comfortable. Clearly he'd thought this through. He watched her carefully as she took her seat.

A heavenly aroma filled her senses. There were dishes she’d never even seen or heard of before. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was watering, but she touched nothing. Instead, she eyed the Beast, slightly unnerved by his gaze. When he did not speak, she did. 

“Well?”

“Well?" he repeated, his expression unchanging. "Is something the matter?" She shifted in her seat but did not break his gaze.

“Isn’t there anything you’d like to say to me?" she asked. "If I am to become your wife then you are doing a poor job at courting me, _Sir_.” She made sure to emphasize the last word. No use in offending him by forgetting to have manners.

“Ah, well. I thought you might be hungry and prefer to eat first.” How considerate. Or perhaps he was merely trying to fatten her up. She spied his place setting. Empty.

“And you had no qualms with eating before I arrived?”

“I do not eat this food, and never at the table,” he replied calmly. She frowned.

“Why not? You’re not trying to poison me, are you?” He let out a short bark of a laugh.

“If you really believe that I wish you dead, tell me: why would I resort to poison?” It was hard to argue with that logic, and her shoulders sank a bit as she relaxed in her chair.

“Fair enough. Anyway nevermind about the food. What precisely do you want of _me?”_  she asked, getting straight to the point.

He nodded as if he'd expected this question. “To begin, you need not concern yourself about marriage. There is no requirement on your part go through with that part of our arrangement. …Not unless you wish to, that is,” he added as an afterthought. Naia raised a brow.

“If I am being given the option, I prefer to remain unmarried, yes,” she carefully responded. “But I don’t understand. If you didn’t bring me here to be your bride then why am I here?”

He took his time responding, perhaps carefully choosing his words.

“You are here… to end my loneliness, if I am being perfectly honest. And you will find with me that I am only ever being honest, Mademoiselle Lavellan. I am quite incapable of lying to you, in fact,” he said quite seriously. How rich! The Dread Wolf claiming that he cannot tell a lie. She had a hard time believing that. 

“How is that?” she pried.

“To put it simply, as long as you are bound to me (and married or not, you _are_ bound to me), then I am therefore bound to you as well. Lying to you would be like… like breaking an oath, one might say.”

“Bound to me…?” she urged him on, pressing for more information.

“We may not be married but we are to be living together, exclusively, for the rest of your days. This is…an unusual arrangement, to say the least, but there are rules and boundaries all the same." It was not much of an answer, but she decided not to linger on it.

“I see. So what are your intentions for this arrangement, exactly?” She was a bit nervous to hear the answer, and perhaps he could tell, because his voice grew even gentler somehow.

“My intentions are, in fact, perfectly honorable. It may comfort you to know that as long as you are living here I will not let any harm come to you, nor will I ever touch you without your permission. As I said earlier, you have free rein of this castle. It belongs to you now as much as it belongs to me.”

For all the terrible answers Naia had conjured up in her mind, she had not expected that. Not that she trusted him to tell the truth, but if the Dread Wolf was speaking honestly, then she had just gone from being a simple farm girl to wealthy property owner overnight. It was hardly a comfort, given her situation, but if that was to be her only role here, she decided that it was not such a terrible one. It was better than most women in France could hope for, in this day and age. And what's more, she didn't have to be anyone's wife. That was a relief, at least.

“And I am allowed anywhere on the castle grounds, both inside and out? I only ask because I glimpsed the most beautiful gardens before, and I know how you feel about people touching your flowers.”

He did not appear to pick up on the hint of bitterness in her voice.

“The gardens belong to you as well, yes. You may pick all the flowers you desire," he said.

 _I_ _don’t want your silly flowers_ , she thought sorely, but said nothing as she broke his gaze. She didn't want any of this.

“And while I am free to do as I like all day, what will you be off doing?” she asked. She met his eyes again and thought she saw a flash of surprise behind them. Those inhuman eyes were intense and a bit unnerving, but somehow far more expressive than she expected. The rest of his face, his prominent brow and long snout, were unreadable, however.

“My activities are nothing with which to concern yourself. Just know that you will be safe and free for all your days here.” She looked at him incredulously.

“Free, except for the part where I can never leave.” The accusation hung thickly in the air between them. He could not deny his crime, and she would not let him forget it so easily.

“…Yes," he said. Naia thought, strangely, that he looked remorseful just then, but she quickly brushed it off. "As long as you are to be stuck here with me, I feel that you ought to at least be as comfortable as possible." 

She narrowed her eyes just slightly. “How thoughtful of you.”

She was doing her best to keep a brave face in front of this Beast, but it was exhausting. She lowered her eyes to spy the food in front of her, and suddenly found it no longer appetizing.

“If you don’t mind, I think I’ll skip supper tonight. I’m not very hungry after all.” He nodded.

“If that is so, then I will not keep you. Just be here tomorrow night, and every night, at the same time. That is the only request I will ever make of you. Good night, Mademoiselle.”

She stood up and quickly pushed in her chair, before catching his watchful red eyes one last time. “Good night.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we're getting somewhere.
> 
> translations:  
> Ara Iovru - my bear cub  
> Da'halla - little halla  
> (credit: Project Elvhen)


	4. Chapter Three

Skipping dinner had been a terrible idea, and Naia was kicking herself for it now. Her stomach grumbled audibly as she entered her bedroom. She ignored it and flung herself face down onto the soft bed. It grumbled again, louder this time, as if in protest. She groaned and flipped over onto her back, then gazed about the room as if it could somehow hear her thoughts and magically produce a plateful of food.

Sadly, no food appeared, but Naia did notice something that had changed within the room. The vase full of embriums from this morning had disappeared. Perhaps that Beast had been in her room at some point. But why remove such an insignificant detail and leave everything else untouched?

The thought vanished from her mind as she got up and headed towards the fireplace. There were a few logs lying beside it, so she placed them each inside and stepped back to find a candle. As soon as she moved away, the logs caught fire on their own, and she remembered that her bedroom _could_ read her thoughts, in a way. She took off her outer garments and removed her stockings so that her legs and arms were bare. The warmth from the fire covered and embraced her exposed skin. Nearby, a large copper tub began to fill with water. Naia had never actually seen a private bathing tub before. She'd never minded having to bathe in a lake or a stream, but then she'd always had someone to keep guard while she undressed. It was comforting, she supposed, to have someplace to bathe in private.

Naia dipped a finger into the water. Hot, though not unbearably so. She removed the rest of her garments and slipped one foot into the water. Warmth flooded her body and she sighed in contentment as she lowered her whole leg, then the other leg, and then the rest of her body.

She closed her eyes as the hot water eased her aching muscles. Farming was a laborious livelihood, indeed, and she was grateful for the opportunity to relax. This kind of luxury was something she'd never even dreamed of, but it reminded her of her sisters. While she and her brother had been content with simple life on a farm, Enasta and Nehna were hardly satisfied, always dreaming of a better life. They often talked of the palace of Versailles, while Naia would laugh and remind them what happened to the people who lived there to begin with. But now she was living the life her sisters always wanted. It occurred to her that Nehna might be jealous, if she ever should learn of this. She was the one who had asked for a wealthy husband, after all, the very reason their father had made a pact with the Dread Wolf. And yet, if Nehna were the one being kept here against her will, under the watchful eye of that conniving Beast.... Well, that was enough to convince Naia that she'd made the right choice. Whatever he might have planned for her, at least she could take comfort that it would be her and not one of her sisters who had to worry about that.

A sudden creaking sound drew Naia from her thoughts. She opened her eyes, alert and slightly uneasy as she spied her surroundings. To her alarm, she saw that the door was slightly ajar. Had she forgotten to close it when she entered? She quickly reached for a linen and covered herself as she stepped out of the tub.

If that Beast had come by to spy on her while she was exposed, she was not about to sit by and let him get away with it. He had promised not to touch her but he’d made no such promise about watching her undress, and she would not put it past the Dread Wolf to do something so abhorrent.

Naia quickly went to her bedroom door and peeked her head around the corner. It was too dark to see the whole hallway. She shut the door, then turned around to look for something to change into. She had foolishly brought no clean clothes with her, but surely there must be something lying around.

Her eyes settled on the vanity table, and she was almost startled upon discovering a plate of food sitting atop it. That had not been there when she entered the room, so it must have happened while she was in the bath. Assuming the castle could not actually read her mind, and between this and the creaking noise and her door being left ajar, she wondered if she was truly alone with that Beast. He had never actually said they were alone, simply that the castle was enchanted, so naturally Naia assumed there were no servants living here. But if they were alone, then where had the food come from?

Naia found a single nightgown hanging in the wardrobe and changed into it. Her stomach gave another grumble and she eyed the food longingly for a moment before giving in to her stomach’s demands and reaching for it. The food was still hot, and just as delicious as she’d imagined. She offered a silent prayer of thanks to the Creators as she devoured every bite, intentionally forgetting to worry about where the food had come from in the first place.

 

* * *

 

That night she dreamt she was in a forest again, only it was darker and she was completely alone. The sky was a ghastly green and there was a fog so thick she almost could not see at all. Her head felt a little foggy as well as she walked around, trying to make sense of her surroundings. As she did so she became highly aware of her senses. A musky scent filled her nostrils. Her vision even seemed to adjust a bit to the haziness that surrounded her. It felt as if all of this was really happening to her. Only it wasn’t. And yet, unlike a typical dream, it seemed as though she were in complete control of her actions.

To test her theory, Naia tried jumping up and down, then running back and forth. She might have looked foolish had there been anyone around but she did not care. She was in control of her actions alright, and she was suddenly filled with a strange sense of giddiness and euphoria. This was no ordinary dream, she concluded, and she wondered what else she could do in this bizarre dreamland.

Naia thought back to the last dream she remembered having. In it she had seen her mother. She wondered if she could will herself to do the same now. No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than her mother was there, standing right in front of her. Her heart skipped a beat.

“Are you really her?” Naia asked. Her mother smiled.

“I am whatever you want me to be, _da’halla_. I am a part of you.”

She closed her eyes at the sweet sound of her mother's voice calling her by her childhood nickname. Images filled her mind’s eye, memories of being rocked to sleep with elvhen lullabies, being called _da'halla_  by that gentle voice, and being called by her full given name instead whenever she had done something naughty. Her mother had given her that nickname a long time ago, before her other siblings were born. Things had been so simpler back then.

Naia opened her eyes, half expecting her mother to be gone, but she was still there.

“How are you here? What are you?”

“Like I said, I come from you,” the apparition responded.

“So you’re sort of, I don’t know… my memories taking physical form?” she questioned.

“I would not call this physical, but yes. …More or less.”

Naia nodded, then gestured to her surroundings. “Do you know what this place is?” 

“You are in the Fade, the place where spirits dwell and dreams are born.” Spirits? Like ghosts? Could they be real, Naia wondered, or was this truly just a dream?

“None of this is real, is it?” she asked.

“It is just as real as you are, or as I once was,” her mother explained calmly. “It is simply happening in another realm. Your mind is here while your body sleeps in the Waking World.”

“…And I can tap into this realm while I sleep?” she inquired. Her mother nodded. “Incredible. What else can I do? I thought of you and you appeared. Can I see more people? Places?”

“As long as they exist within your memories, _da’halla_ , of course you can. Seeing someone else's memories is another matter entirely, however. Though not impossible.” She winked as she said this.

Someone else’s memories? Naia had never been more curious. She needed- no, _craved_ \- answers. If she really could tap into a place where she could access memories, dreams… well, she may be trapped in a castle by day but perhaps at night she could go literally anywhere else! Naia had given up on dreams of travelling the world after her mother passed, when it became apparent that her family would need her to stay and take care of them. But what if she had just discovered a way to see the world while she slept?

“Wow. How come I’ve never been able to do this before?” she asked.

“I do not know.”

“Will I be able to come back tomorrow night and see you?”

“I do not know.”

“…I miss you.”

“I know.”

Naia gave her mother a hug and when she finally let go, the apparition was gone. _Amazing_ , she thought. _Real or not, this might just be the best thing that’s ever happened to me._

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Naia saw that the empty plate from last night had disappeared, and an outfit had been laid out for her. Its outer dress was yellow, with a brown embroidered trim, in the high-waisted style that was popular in France and England these days. The gown fit like a glove when she tried it on, and she was not entirely displeased with her appearance as she eyed herself in the mirror. When she was a little girl she remembered hearing that the ladies in court used to wear gowns that made their hips look ridiculously large, as if they were hiding small children under their skirts. Evidently the style had toned down since the Revolution. Her gown was more fitted to the shape of her actual hips and legs, in fact, yet still flowed loosely from the waistline that lay just beneath her breasts. The gown also boasted a neckline that was bordering on dangerously low. Naia grabbed a scarf that was lying nearby and stuffed it over her cleavage for modesty. She opted to forego the frilly matching bonnet and let her hair hang loose instead. Her unruly curls were too difficult to tame, anyhow, and if she tied them back with the scarf, then she would have nothing to cover her chest.

She almost felt like royalty, wearing such elegant garments made of much finer and more colorful materials than the coarse fabric she was used to. Nehna and Enasta would be beside themselves with jealousy if they could see her now. She wished they could see her, or at least hear from her; she missed them so. It occurred to her then that she had not actually learned if writing to them was even permitted, since visiting them was forbidden. She made a mental note to ask that Beast at dinner that evening.

After breakfast, Naia decided to spend her morning in the gardens enjoying the fresh air and sunlight. She found that the weather was not so cold within the castle grounds, as if this area alone were untouched by winter’s cool grasp. The interior of the castle was never too cold either, and she wondered briefly if there were some kind of invisible, magical barrier surrounding them.

During her walk, Naia found several small gardens separated by tall hedges and walkways, with benches where one could sit and be soothed by the sound of a running fountain. She took a seat in one such garden and let her fingers dip into the chilly water of a nearby fountain. It was quite a lovely day, truth be told, and the only thing that would make it better would be if she had a book to read.

She had insisted on learning to read when she was young, of course, like the students she watched who lived in a nearby town. It had been her father who went to one of them one day- a remarkably short, blonde boy named Varric - and payed him the money he’d had in savings just so that his daughter could learn to read. Naia was grateful that her father had understood the value of being able to read and write. He’d known that she was particularly interested in preserving the culture of their people, even at a fairly young age. He’d always said she was destined to be a Keeper. Naia no longer could say that she believed in destiny.

After a few minutes of sitting and enjoying the soft breeze and warm sunshine against her skin, Naia stood and decided to walk the entire length of the castle. She discovered that the gardens surrounded the whole perimeter, which she soon learned was actually surrounded by water on all sides, with no boats in sight, cut off from any hope of escape. And while she wouldn't dream of breaking her father's promise to the Dread Wolf, she internally wished she at least had the option to attempt escape. Oh, well.

Along the way, she enjoyed seeing the different types of herbs and flowers that grew within each garden. She knew a lot about herbalism from studying under Keeper Deshanna, and prided herself on being able to identify every plant she saw. There were no fruits or vegetables, nor did she spy any animals, like she’d hoped, but she did come across a closed off square of hedges so tall she could not see over them. There was a door leading inside but it was locked. Naia had insufficient skills when it came to picking locks, so she left it alone, but she could not help but wonder at what sort of secrets the Dread Wolf was hiding in there.

 

* * *

 

That evening Naia went to dinner with an agenda. She needed to know if it was possible to get that Beast to let his guard down a bit. Her goal was to get his permission to write to her family. Perhaps he did not even need convincing; perhaps he really did care about her needs, like he claimed. She may not be naïve, but she was willing to consider every option. Still, she would not be letting her own guard down anytime soon.

The Beast greeted her with a nod as she entered the room and she bowed slightly, suddenly realizing that she was unsure of how to actually appropriately address him. She had never interacted with a noble before in her life, although she hardly regarded him as a noble. But he was Lord of this castle, nonetheless, and she needed to get on his good side tonight.

“ _Milord_ ,” she began, spitting out the first title she could think of in a panic, “How do you do?”

It was a title the French used to address upper class foreigners. It was the best she could come up with in the moment, and he did not correct her on this. She began to wonder the extent of his knowledge of the French language in the first place. She had not even questioned it until now. He spoke with only the slightest hint of an accent but he seemed otherwise well versed. There was so much about him she didn't know.

“I am well, _ma serannas_.”

It was the first time he'd spoken Elvhen to her, and her response was nearly instantaneous.

“ _De da’rahn," s_ he said without a second thought, and for a moment, the corner of the wolf's mouth twitched upwards.

“ _Dirthas Elvhen_? I thought our language was long lost to you Dalish.” His tone remained as gentle and polite as ever, but she thought she detected something else in the way that he said the word _Dalish_. She brushed it off as her imagination.

“We’ve held on to as much of it as we can. Common words and phrases are still used in day-to-day life. I am not fluent, but I know way more than your average Dalish.” She smiled as she said this, proud of her achievements.

“I see. However I would hardly consider it an accomplishment to possess greater knowledge than the average Dalish.”

Naia frowned. Had she just heard him correctly?

“You insult me, Sir.”

“I apologize. I meant only to criticize the majority of ignorant Dalish whom I have encountered in my time.” His phrasing was polite as ever and his voice continued to sound like warm honey, yet his words themselves were like ice spilling from that dreadful snout of his. She narrowed her eyes.

“And as they are my people, you have also insulted me,” she reminded him.

“ _Ir abelas_. You are right. Forgive me, I am out of line.” Naia simply nodded and turned her attention to her food. She would not make the same mistake as last night and let this Beast steal her appetite before she had a chance to eat. She took a bite.

“I wonder if you would allow me to make it up to you,” he said as she was chewing. She swallowed and returned her gaze to him.

“Did you have something in mind?” It occurred to her that now might be a good time to bring up the issue of letting her write to her sisters, but she waited to hear his suggestion.

“I thought perhaps I could teach you our language. Is that of any interest to you?”

He may as well have asked if her sisters were interested in shiny things. If Naia had any weakness at all, it was her lust for knowledge, especially concerning her people, and right now it was beginning to override her disdain for this Beast in front of her.

“I… I’d like that very much, _ma serannas_ ,” she said quietly.

“There is no need to thank me. I simply detest speaking French, something to do with the way it feels in my throat. Anyhow I am glad I can be of some use to you,” he responded. Naia hated to admit it to herself, but so was she.

It was decided that they would meet in the afternoons and have brief lessons, so as to not disturb too much of her time, as he put it. This was more than fine with Naia, and she decided to put off on asking about writing her family until they had spent a little more time together. If he was truly sorry enough for insulting her that he would give her Elvhen lessons in return, perhaps he might eventually also take pity on her situation.

When she had finished eating, Naia stood up, prepared to dismiss herself, when she remembered something.

“Before I go, may I ask you something?”

“You may ask me anything, anytime,” he replied genuinely.

“Um, well, that is… are you sure we are alone in this castle?” She noticed his large ears briefly twitch as she finished asking, but his response came calmly and confidently.

“Quite. Why do you ask?”

“I… I thought I heard something, last night. In my room.” She tried her best to look and sound as calm as he did as she said this, but the next part may have had a slight tone of accusation to it. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

“I only know I can assure you that there are no living souls under this roof, aside from you and me.” His giant body leaned towards her then, several bright crimson eyes taunting her as he said in a low voice, “Perhaps it was a ghost?”

 

* * *

 

Since the beginning of the day Naia could not wait to get back to bed that night so she could try and tap into the Fade once more. But now, after that blighted Beast had left her with the suggestion that the castle might be haunted, she was not so sure she wanted to sleep. Could there actually be a ghost?

It was not entirely unbelievable to Naia. There were people, shemlen and Dalish alike, who claimed to be able to converse with the dead. She had heard countless ghost stories growing up as well, both from fellow kids in her clan and also from Varric (he always had some of the craziest stories to tell and she constantly encouraged him to write them down). Many of the ghost stories she’d heard involved castles or large manors, in fact. Varric had told her that the ladies across the sea in England read the most outrageous books about virginal maidens trapped in old, gothic-style castles with mysterious men who possessed questionable morals. Sometimes there were ghosts involved, too. She failed to see the appeal of such stories, especially if they involved ghosts.

Still, the setting was right. She _was_ a maiden living in an ancient castle with a monster. Who knew what secrets this castle held? At this point finding a ghost would not be surprising to her. But a ghost who brought food to hungry women while they bathed? Stranger things have happened, she supposed. In any case, Naia decided not to dismiss any one possibility until she had further evidence. But her naturally inquisitive mind needed to know.

She kept the candle by her bedside lit all evening, refusing to blow it out even as she was beginning to fall asleep. Naia was determined to keep herself awake and alert in case another appearance was made by the previous night’s intruder. She sat there and listened to the sound of the wind moaning and howling, sending shivers up and down her skin. But she could not stay awake forever, and soon her body was overtaken by sweet sleep.

Naia’s mother was waiting for her as soon as her mind entered the Fade that night. She might have found it odd if she hadn’t been so terribly overjoyed to see her again. Overjoyed, and a bit relieved if she was being honest, for she feared losing the woman a second time. She grinned as Naia neared.

“You made it.”

“Yes, I suppose I did.” Naia’s mother took her hand and squeezed it gently. A familiar warmth spread through her and she could not help but feel safe.

“Where would you like to go?” her mother asked. It did not take long for Naia to think of an answer.

“Home.”

They walked together as the land around them shifted and morphed slowly into that of a Dalish camp. Everything was set up just as Naia remembered from the day she’d left. Two women were washing garments in a nearby lake, while their children laughed and splashed each other with water playfully. A man was sitting on a tree stump in front of his tent, carefully whittling wood for arrows. The tent next to his had the flaps open and inside someone was playing the sweetest music on a fiddle. Across from that there was a woman putting vegetables into a pot over a small fire, undoubtedly making some kind of stew. Naia closed her eyes and inhaled the rich scent of Dalish spices.

As they walked, Naia realized she was dressed in the same outfit she’d worn the day her family left, complete with bare feet. She relished the feel of grass between her toes, the soft earth beneath her feet and a cloudless sky above her head. It felt so good to be back, even if it was not real.

Eventually they came to another open tent with a small table set up inside that had a deck of cards atop it: Deshanna’s tent. Naia wondered if she would see her here, too. Her mother squeezed her hand again and then let go. When Naia turned to her she found Deshanna standing in her place.

The old woman looked good, vibrant even. Her kind eyes crinkled as she smiled, as did her Mythal-style vallaslin. Naia hugged her instantly.

“I’ve missed you. I’m so sorry that I wasn’t by your side when you died,” she said. Deshanna quietly shushed her.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for, _da’len_. Your family needed you to be with them, just as our clan needed me.” Naia nodded, and a few tears managed to escape her. Deshanna handed her a handkerchief. That was certainly one thing she never thought she would need in a dream. The whole experience was still so fresh and bizarre for her. Deshanna motioned for her to sit down on one of the pillows in her tent.

Naia began to feel a little bit hot as she sat down. She hadn’t even been aware of the temperature until that moment, in fact, but she decided to ignore it for the time being and focus on her _hah’ren_ instead.

“Let me do a reading for you, _da’len_ ,” Deshanna offered.

The elder woman spread the deck of cards out and picked three at random. As she turned the first card over, Naia was met with the image of a fiery hearth: Sylaise. She tugged at the collar of her dress absentmindedly.

Deshanna turned the second card over. Sylaise again. But there should not have been two of the same card in one deck, Naia thought. How strange. The third card revealed to be the exact same thing, and suddenly the images of flames began to dance before her eyes. It was too hot. Naia suddenly found she had difficulty breathing, and she looked to Deshanna, panicked. Deshanna appeared mildly concerned.

“You’d better wake up.”

As soon as the words were said, Naia’s eyes snapped open. The curtains next to her bed had caught fire from the candle she’d foolishly forgotten to blow out, and she knew it was only a matter of time before the bed caught fire as well. She didn’t hesitate to swiftly jump out of bed, coughing as smoke started to fill her lungs and the heat threatened to scorch her skin. Before she could do anything further, however, something flew out from behind her and hit the window, splashing water all over the drapes. A second object came after it, and the flames went out.

Naia spun around to see what had put the fire out and caught a glimpse of what looked like the shadowy figure of a person running through her bedroom door and out into the hallway. She followed, but the hallway was again too dark to see clearly. She ran forward anyhow and on cue, the candelabras began to light up. She ran the entire length of the hallway before giving up and turning back.

There had been someone there. Not a beast, but a person. A person for whom the castle did not see fit to light the way. Naia pondered this as she made her way back to her room. Could it have been a ghost? Ghosts didn’t need light, she supposed. It really wasn’t so far-fetched when she thought about it. She did live in an enchanted castle with a giant talking wolf, after all. And a ghost who brought her food and saved her life? That was certainly the sort of ghost she could get along with. If there truly was a compassionate spirit haunting this castle, she was determined to make it show itself to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thanks so much for the kind words and kudos, you lovely people! I hope you all had a wonderful holiday and a happy New Year :)  
> If you are enjoying my little Solavellan fairy tale as much as I enjoy writing it, I plan to update every other Friday, Maker willing. Thanks for reading!
> 
> translations:  
> ma serannas: thank you  
> de da'rahn: no problem  
> dirthas elvhen: do you speak elvhen?  
> ir abelas: i am sorry


	5. Chapter Four

Naia awoke that morning feeling refreshed and renewed. Ever since she had come to the castle, she found that she’d never slept better. Perhaps it was the comfortable bed, or the magic of the place, or a bit of both, perhaps. She stretched her limbs as she stood up, ready to face the day.

She noticed immediately the magically repaired drapes hanging from her window. There were no signs at all of a fire having happened in this room last night. Good. She did not need the Dread Wolf finding out somehow that she accidentally tried to burn his castle down.

She also decided to keep her discovery of the ghost from last night to herself. Although, from the way the Beast had teased her about the castle being haunted, Naia guessed that he'd known the truth all along. Did he delight in giving her a scare? But she hadn't been afraid. She needed to show that Beast that he could not intimidate her.

A new gown had been laid out for her this morning: a sheer red material on top of white satin, beautifully embroidered with a floral design. As she changed into it she wondered where the gown from the previous day had gone, as it was a shame that she could not somehow keep it or send it to her sisters.

The clouds covered the entirety of the sky this morning, casting a dim grey light upon the castle and threatening to rain any minute. Naia lamented that she would have to spend her morning indoors, but at least it would give her a chance to explore the castle further.

After what seemed an eternity of traversing the endless halls and trying to recall whether or not she checked this room or that already, Naia discovered something most curious. At the end of one of the hallways was a beautiful, hand-woven tapestry depicting what Naia recognized as the goddess Mythal. She would have walked right on past it if she hadn’t found it to be an oddity. Why would the Dread Wolf, the Great Betrayer of the gods, keep something depicting one of those gods in his castle? Curious, she walked over to the tapestry and studied the image before her. When she looked down, she found that the bottom right corner of the tapestry was worn, as if someone had constantly been touching it. Naia leaned down and took the corner in one hand, then gently lifted. Underneath the tapestry was a small wooden door.

She grinned at her discovery and bit her lip as she tried the handle. Fortunately, the door was unlocked but she found that she could not see inside the room at all. No windows. Perhaps it was simply an old forgotten closet? She hastily went to light a lamp and then returned with it, anxious to find some hidden treasures.

To Naia’s delight, the walls of this room were littered with more tapestries, overlapping one another so that she could not even see the stone underneath them. It was a bit stuffy in there without any windows, of course, but she hardly cared. She gently ran her fingers over one of the tapestries, admiring the careful craftsmanship as brightly colored depictions of the elvhen gods greeted her like a warm reminder of where she came from. She uncovered a few unfinished tapestries as well, piled high, lying forgotten on top of what she assumed to be a table. Upon closer inspection she discovered that there was a loom hiding underneath all of them, with many spools of thread on the ground beneath it. She wondered who had been working on these. There was no way of even telling how long it had been since someone had been in that room, since there never seemed to be any dust anywhere.

This self-cleaning enchantment was beginning to truly annoy Naia. She was beyond bored with nothing to cook or clean or do with her hands. But now, looking down at the loom and different colored threads, Naia realized she’d finally found something to keep her occupied. It was a small victory in her mind, one that she would relish.

She decided that she would set to work right away weaving a tapestry of her very own. This was her home now, and she needed to leave her mark on it somehow. Of course it might take a long time, especially given that she'd never actually done this before, only watched as someone else did. There was a small chance she might fail miserably, but she’d just had a brilliant idea and she was determined to bring it to life.

 

* * *

 

Naia found her fingers growing weary and her eyes tired from the poor lighting before long. It was nearly time for her to meet with the Beast for the first of her Elvhen lessons. Following a quick lunch, she made her way to the main hall, where the Beast waited for her. 

“ _On dhea'him_ , Naia,” he greeted her in an unusually cheerful tone. Evidently he was in a good mood today, though she had yet to see him in a truly poor one. She hoped she would never have to see that.

“ _On dhea’him_ ,” she returned his greeting. The language slid off of her tongue with ease, and she found herself anxious to learn as much new vocabulary as possible today. The thought of it brought the tiniest smile to her face; she could not help it.

The Dread Wolf brought her to a room, a study of sorts, complete with a writing desk where she could sit and take notes. Clearly he took this very seriously. Naia took her seat behind the desk and immediately picked up the quill she found lying next to a small bottle of ink. The Beast cleared his throat.

“May I assume that you know what to do with that?” he asked, nodding his great head in the general direction of the quill she was now holding. Naia’s brow lifted as she looked back at him.

“I do know how to write, if that is what you’re asking,” she replied. He exhaled.

“Good. That will make all of this much easier. Are you ready to get started?”

The Beast set her to work right away with proper pronunciations, spellings and conjugations of basic verbs. It was rather boring, routine stuff, and not at all what she was hoping to learn on her first day, but then she was not about to complain. She listened carefully and wrote down everything he told her.

He stood right behind where she sat, his large head angled downward and just above her right shoulder, so that he might observe her work. It was the closest they'd ever been. She tried to remain focused on the task at hand, but she was a bit tense. Why did his proximity bother her so much? It wasn’t that she was intimidated, or scared- she was certain of that. No, perhaps it was a hint of guilt. After all, she was letting herself be taught by none other than the Dread Wolf. She was his willing student. Creators, what would Deshanna say if she were around today to see this? She would surely bring shame to her entire clan.

After what must have been around forty or so minutes, the Beast informed her that she had learned enough for that day, and that they would continue where they left off tomorrow. But after spending their brief time together learning only the absolute most basic things, Naia decided that could not just leave feeling so, well, unsatisfied.

She called out for him to wait, just as he had turned to take his leave of her. He paused, ears perking upward. She stood up and closed the distance between them, bravely facing him and looking straight into the many eyes of the Beast.

“First, thank you for this. Though I must admit I was hoping to learn a little more than that today,” she confessed.

“Then you will just have to learn to be patient, _da’len_.” Naia nearly cringed at his casual use of this title. Only Deshanna had ever called her  _da'len._ It felt almost inappropriate to allow anyone else to call her that, especially the blighted Dread Wolf. She remembered the guilt she had felt earlier and frowned.

“Is something wrong?” he asked. Naia shook her head.

“You just called me _da’len_. I know that I am technically your student now but I would rather you did not call me that. That title has… sentimental meaning for me.” She was unsure why she was telling him this, but he had asked, after all. He nodded in response.

“I understand. To be honest, it just slipped off of my tongue. Though it has been a very long time since I last called someone that.” He looked away, as if recollecting some ancient memory, and Naia remembered what she wanted to ask of him.

“It’s fine. We can discuss how to properly address one another later. I wanted to ask you about something else,” she said.

“Ask away,” he obliged.

“I… I was just wondering if… well, would you tell me a little about what ancient Elvhenan was like? …Please,” she added. Naia tried not to sound too eager as she asked this, and yet at the same time she found it difficult to get the words out right. She was a bit anxious. How would he respond? She wasn’t even sure why she was asking this of him, to be honest. He could easily agree to tell her nothing but lies and try to slander her people’s reputation and history. Yet she needed to know. She had to at least hear what this ancient, immortal creature had to say, just in case any of it was true. She longed to take a peek into the past, to walk the streets of Arlathan in the days of Elvhen glory as the Beast before her once had. He grinned.

“Please have a seat, and I will do my best to answer any questions you may have on this subject,” he offered. She sat down. He moved to sit beside her, facing her. She fidgeted a bit.

“First, what would you like to know?” he asked calmly. “This is a broad subject, and your Dalish education is sure to be littered with inaccuracies—that is not meant to insult, you must understand.”

“I understand, just…” she interrupted, impatient but unsure of where to begin. So much of her own history and culture had been lost to her people, and here before her was a being who remembered it all. She thought of the other gods: Mythal, Elgar’nan, Andruil, and the others. Each one of them had been betrayed by this monster. She swallowed hard and pushed that thought to the back of her mind as she asked her first question.

“What were the gods like?” She watched as the Beast’s shoulders fell slightly. Already she knew she had started with the wrong question.

“You would not believe me if I told you,” he began. He sounded annoyed, perhaps frustrated? “You Dalish… you truly do worship each and every one of these so-called gods, do you not? You pray to them, revere them… Therefore I am afraid the answer to that question would only disappoint you.” At least he was warning her that he was about to slander her religion. She took a deep breath.

“It is true that I revere them. They are… beloved by my people and by me. All but you, of course. But whatever you have to say, I wish you would just say it,” she quickly explained. He sighed.

“Very well: If you must know, the beings you worship were not gods but men, plain and simple.”

Naia remained silent. Already she regretted asking him to tell her anything at all. He was lying to her. Of course he was lying to her, for that is what the Dread Wolf does best. Why had she expected anything different? Yet his words were so blatant, so matter-of-fact, nothing like the silver-tongued, honey-coated lies she had been taught to watch out for.

When she could not find the words to respond, he began to pace back and forth.

“This was a mistake. You do not believe me, and why should you? Yet there was no way around the subject. You asked me to tell you the truth, so I did. Perhaps I might have begun by telling you stories about them, or what they looked like, their personalities… But believe me, none of that would have satisfied you, either. So there you have it: the truth about your precious pantheon, whether you choose to believe it or not.”

He sounded aggravated, but it seemed to be directed inward, not towards her. He really was not asking for her to believe him, which baffled her. None of this made sense. Naia shook her head and stood up, frustrated.

“I should go,” she offered before running off.

 

* * *

 

 _Stupid, so stupid_ , Naia thought to herself as she landed on her bed. _I actually thought I could trust him for a moment. Why?_

She wanted to run away, more now than when she had first arrived. The Beast had told her on her very first evening in the castle that he would not lie to her. No, not would not— _could_ not. He was bound, he’d said. Bound by what? Some unspoken oath? Well, he’d done a bang-up job at breaking it as quickly as possible. And besides, Naia had not been naïve enough to believe him when he’d said that, anyhow. She couldn’t understand why this was bothering her so much.

But _of course_ it should bother her. He was defaming her people's sacred beliefs, calling their deities phonies. Yet he was the very one who betrayed them, and he was a liar. None of this should surprise her; it should anger her! She needed to remember that he was not her teacher; he was her captor. She had been trying to get on that Beast’s good side, when really she should be angry with him. She should be giving him a piece of her mind! Where before she may have been afraid to say the wrong thing, she no longer felt in danger of his wrath. She had yet to see it, and indeed yet to even hear of it. The Dread Wolf was not known for being particularly angry or violent, simply cunning and deceptive. Sure, he was a giant wolf who could easily kill her if he wanted to, but if he’d wanted her dead, she would be by now.

Naia decided that she would give that Beast a piece of her mind later that evening. She lay on her bed for a while, eyes closed and contemplating exactly what she should say, when a cold breeze washed over her. She shivered and opened her eyes to see if she had left the window open. Naia nearly jumped when she noticed the boy crouched on the foot of her bed.

“He feels terrible, troubled, torn,” the boy said timidly. He was almost unnaturally pale, from his skin to his stringy hair to his eyes that peeked out at her from under a wide-brimmed hat. He was a strange sight, and something about him told her he didn’t belong in this world. She instantly thought he might disappear as suddenly as he’d appeared, this ghost boy. She hoped he wouldn’t.

“Who are you?” she asked, sitting up and drawing her knees to her chest. He looked downward, so that she could just see the lower half of his face from beneath his hat.

“He thinks he’s ruined, rocked, wrecked everything he’s worked and waited for. He believes she is his last chance to break it, break free. He’s messed up, made her angry,” he said all of this at once, seemingly without taking a breath between sentences and yet slowly and carefully pronouncing each word as if any of what he just said made sense to her. It didn’t. He looked up and met her eyes.

“He doesn’t want you to be angry with him.” Naia’s brows knitted together in confusion.

“Who doesn’t?”

“The Wolf, of course. Except that he’s not a wolf. He wants to be different, but they made it so that he can’t change anymore.”

“Who are ‘they’? What are you talking about? And who are you?”

“Not who; what. But you already know what I am,” he responded, ignoring her other questions. “I helped you, and you remember. You’re not supposed to, though. But I can make it so that you forget.”

“What? I don’t want to forget anything,” Naia said, brow furrowing. “Just make sense, okay? Talk to me.”

“But I am talking to you,” he responded matter-of-factly. Naia put her hand to her forehead, trying to be patient with the supernatural being squatting on her bed.

“Let me get this straight: you’re a ghost. You’re here to help. Am I right so far?” The boy nodded enthusiastically.

“Why do you look like a teenaged boy?” Naia continued. He looked down at himself, then back to her.

“I didn’t want you to be afraid. The others- they were afraid. But you’re older, wiser, braver.”

“Others? What others?”

“His name was Cole. He sold food from his farm in the market every Sunday. She liked his eggs, but also his eyes, and his smile. It made her smile, too, so she went to town every Sunday just to see him. And then she stopped seeing him. He was all she could think about when she came here, so I started to look like him because I wanted to help her.” Who was he talking about now, and why was he going on about some farm boy? It made her think of home briefly, and she thought of her brother. This boy looked about the same age, too.

“What are you talking about? Are you the ghost of a farm boy named Cole?” He blinked at her.

“What are _you_ talking about?” Naia sighed, slightly exasperated. Who knew talking to ghosts would be so trying?

“No matter; I’m calling you Cole. Unless you have another name you’d like me to call you?” She looked at him expectantly.

“I’d just like to help. You should be patient with him, even though he thinks he doesn’t deserve it. But he wants to help, too. He didn’t mean to upset you. He thinks you’re going to change everything.”

“Change what now? I’m so confused. Look, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. Thank you for all of your help, Cole.” Cole grinned.

“I like helping people. But you should take better care of yourself. You forgot to take care of yourself and then you were reckless, and then I had to go and find water.”

Listening to Cole talk was like trying to decipher some sort of code, but Naia thought she was smart enough to unravel at least some of it.

“You mean the fire, don’t you? That was my fault for being reckless, you’re right. Thank you for helping to put it out.”

“You already thanked me,” he pointed out.

“Yes, well,” Naia sighed and shifted uncomfortably on the bed, suddenly wondering when this ghost was going to leave already. She liked him- clearly he was a benign spirit- but his presence was still a little overwhelming. Perhaps in time she would get used to it; maybe they could even be friends. Creators knew she needed one right about now.

“I like you too,” he said, and the instant the words left his mouth, he was gone, leaving Naia blinking and her mind a bit hazy. Had that really just happened? Yes, of course it did- she remembered it, but already the memory was foggy, like that of a dream. Still, the feeling of their encounter lingered.

It was a strange feeling, that. Naia felt much calmer than she’d been when she had entered the room. Her anger towards the Beast had diminished to mere annoyance. Had he done that, that ghost boy? He'd simply suggested she be patient with the Dread Wolf, and she felt herself gaining patience somehow. She had so many more questions now, and it made her head spin.

And what was that last thing he’d said, right before disappearing? _I like you too._ Right before he’d said that, right before he disappeared, she had thought in her mind that she liked him. And he’d said, out loud, _I like you too._ Cole could read minds. And not just thoughts, but feelings as well, she concluded. He was clearly a very perceptive ghost. And while he was beyond confusing at times, he seemed very helpful at other times, so Naia decided she was glad to have met him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On Dhea'him is Elvhen for "good afternoon"
> 
> There was so much more I wanted to cover in this chapter but then things sort of took a slightly different turn and it just would have gone on too long. I wasn't planning on introducing Cole today but it turned out to be a much needed meeting and conversation, I think.  
> I admit I almost didn't get this chapter posted in time, but I want to stick to my commitment of updating every other Friday for you lovely readers :) These past few weeks have been super busy but guess who finally beat Dragon Age: Inquisition? Now on to Tresspasser!
> 
> See you in 2 weeks!


	6. Chapter Five

The atmosphere was beyond tense that night at dinner. Naia refused to even look at the Beast from the moment she entered the room, instead remaining focused on consuming her meal in silence. He waited until she had finished eating to speak.

“I want to apologize for earlier,” he began hesitantly. Naia resisted the urge to roll her eyes and kept them focused on the table.

“I am aware that you have your reservations about me,” he continued. “I know that you have no cause to trust me, and rightfully so. I would not trust me either, were I in your position. But I hope that I have not given you reason to fear me.” At this, Naia yielded to his gaze, brown eyes boldly meeting red ones.

“I am not afraid of you,” she said simply. She had never doubted that statement, and so she was able to say it with ease and conviction. She had never allowed herself to truly fear the Dread Wolf, not when she was younger and certainly not now. But she still had her doubts and concerns.

“Do you believe me when I say that I wish you no harm?” he asked. He was digging for something. Clearly he wanted her to trust him, even though he’d just admitted to understanding why she couldn’t. She wondered why it was so important to him that she did. _More lies, more tricks,_ she told herself. _Patience_ , came another whisper of a thought. She took a deep breath.

“I believe that you have already caused harm, whether you wished it or not.” He nodded at this.

“That is fair. However you must know that I intend to do whatever it takes to make up for my grievances against you.”

 _You can try, Trickster_ , Naia thought, unamused _._ And again, another part of her mind whispered _Patience_. _Give him another chance._ She said nothing, instead standing and pushing in her chair, ready to dismiss herself from the room. As she made her way towards the door he addressed her once more.

“I will be waiting for you in the study tomorrow afternoon, at the same time. If you fail to make an appearance… then I will take it that you no longer wish to continue our lessons, and I will understand,” he calmly explained. “The only time you ever need see me is at dinner.”

Naia paused but did not turn to meet his eyes, instead nodding so subtly that she wasn’t certain he saw, before abruptly exiting the room. She wanted to be far away from him and fast, but his words gave her a small comfort. He was giving her an out, and she was grateful for it. She concluded that it would be best not to continue their lessons after all, no matter how desperately she wanted to learn her people’s language. Why spend any more time with that lying Beast than was necessary? Her thoughts turned to the Fade, and she wondered if there were ancient spirits residing there who spoke the language and might be willing to teach her. Of course she hardly knew anything about the Fade and its secrets. It was a long shot, but it could not hurt to try.

 

* * *

 

That night Naia felt a distinct pull on her mind, stronger than the past few nights. It felt as if someone were gently tugging at her consciousness and directing it towards a specific place. She let it lead her on, until the image of a fuzzy but familiar-looking face materialized. Her mother… or was it her Keeper? Loose, greying brown hair framed a face covered in Mythal’s vallaslin. One eye was brown, the other green. It was both women, yet neither. Someone or thing was messing with her head.

“Who are you?” Naia demanded.

“Ah. I’ve got it all wrong this time, haven’t I? That’s not quite right….” The face blurred, and then morphed before her eyes. It was her mother, only it wasn’t. Obviously something else was masquerading as her. The very idea should make her angry, but her heart only grew heavy. So this had not really been her mother, then. Not that she’d ever assumed it was. She knew nothing was real, here. It was all more or less a heightened dream her memories had conjured, a result of some sort of magic that was beyond her comprehension. But a part of her, deep down, wanted to believe that her mother was actually reaching out to her from the Beyond. Instead, some outside presence was invading her mind, violating her memories.

Naia closed her eyes tight, holding them shut for a moment before opening them again. The impostor was still there when she did.

“What do you want?" she asked, "and why have you been wearing my mother’s face? To torment me?” The being shook its head, smile faltering.

“On the contrary. You needed it, needed me. _Da’halla_ —“

“ _Don’t_. You’re not really her, so don’t call me that. What are you? This is a realm of spirits, is it not? Are you a spirit?”

“You are more perceptive than most,” the being confirmed. “I heard your cry of loneliness. Your hurt was so strong. You missed the people you lost, people you love. I only wanted to comfort you; please do not be angry with me.” So this _was_ a spirit, then, and a spirit who merely wanted to help. Not unlike her new friend Cole. Naia pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath, her need to understand everything around her preventing her from losing patience as she addressed the spirit.

“I’m not angry,” she began slowly. “I… do miss my mother, more than anything in the world. Deshanna, too. But you never actually deceived me by pretending to be them. You told me from the start that you were simply taking the form of my memories. So thank you for being honest, at least.” The spirit smiled again, her mother’s eyes twinkling and reminding Naia that in the past she would have given anything to see this sight again. The spirit was right; real or not, it _was_ comforting. "And... I think I can understand why you did this. So, consider yourself forgiven, then."

“Thank you, _da'ha—_ I mean _, da'len._  I hope you can put your trust in me for a little longer, then. I have something I must show you,” it said. Naia contemplated that. What harm could come of trusting this spirit? She barely knew the being, nor did she know what the Fade was fully capable of, but it was all just a dream, wasn't it? She was asleep right now, her body safe and sound in the waking world and far from danger, as far as she knew.

“Alright,” she replied. She let the spirit take her by the hand and lead her through a hazy, fog-covered forest. Thick air filled her lungs, making her almost light-headed, and the hairs on her arms stood up from the chill. Everything felt so relentlessly real; it was difficult to convince her mind that it was only a dream. And then it occurred to her that she did not truly know if she was safe here, after all. Why had she just agreed to trust some random spirit? She did not even trust the Dread Wolf, with whom she lived, and yet there was a good chance she was much safer in his presence. He never made her feel threatened, at least. She supposed she should probably start counting that among her blessings. But none of that mattered now, not if something truly terrible was about to happen.

Before she could even think to turn back, they emerged from the forest into a lush, breathtaking meadow. The fog cleared, replaced by a gentle breeze carrying a sweet, floral scent. It filled her lungs and seemed to calm her nerves, but she remained alert, just in case. Above them was a bright, cloudless sky, but it was the same, eerily green shade that hovered over the rest of the Fade. Brilliant wildflowers peppered a sea of grass, and in the center of it all was a small pool of water. As they neared, Naia saw that the water was so clear and still that she could see everything reflected onto its surface. There was something else about it, too, that drew the eye. It almost _glowed_.

“It’s a mirror,” the spirit explained.

“You brought me here to see a mirror?” she questioned. The spirit nodded.

“Go on, have a look,” it urged. Naia’s brows furrowed, but she stepped forward, leaning over the glistening pool to get a glimpse of its reflective surface. The image of her own face greeted her, thick curls falling on either side and surrounded by a halo of emerald sky. She was about to turn back and comment on how unimpressed she was, when the image before her began to shift. She watched her own eyes widen as they slowly disappeared, replaced by the sight of what appeared to be a vast and beautiful city.

There were buildings everywhere, some with towers so tall that the tops became lost in the clouds. The architecture reminded her a little of the Dread Wolf’s castle, only simpler and much more practical. One such building stood tall near the front of the citadel, proudly guarded by a statue of a beautiful but fierce-looking woman donning a bow and arrow. It reminded her of the hunting goddess Andruil, or the ancient Grecian goddess Artemis. Perhaps the building was a temple, of sorts. In the streets, merchants with their wares hid from the bright sun under tents as they called out to passersby. Pedestrians strolled along casually, dressed in colorful and elegant fashions, the likes of which she’d never seen before. Men and women alike wore their hair long, some with braids. And their ears… Naia blinked, trying to get a clearer view. The tops of their ears were pointed, like some sort of fairy creature she had read about in a book.

 _What on earth am I witnessing?_ Naia wondered. She crouched down towards the ground, hoping to get a better view of everything that was unfolding.

As she drew closer she found she could almost hear the sounds of the bustling city, as if they were rising up from beneath the water's surface. Her face inched closer, looking intently, when she noticed that the faces of a few of the people, though not many, were covered in various styles of vallaslin.

She broke her gaze away from the pool and looked pointedly at the spirit.

“Explain this,” she demanded. The spirit shrugged.

“It looks to me as though you are seeing something that happened a very long time ago—thousands and thousands of years, in fact,” it commented.

“But why am I seeing it?” Naia asked.

“You are seeing whatever it is you have been longing to know. For the pool into which you gaze is called the Well of Knowledge.”

“Well of Knowledge?”

“Yes. It is a window into the past,” the spirit explained, "a glimpse into history."

It sounded too good to be true. She was seeing whatever she longed to know? She longed to know a lot of things, but more recently there was one thing in particular she was most curious about. Right now she was watching a city, one from thousands of years ago. It couldn't be.... But what else? It  _must_ be the ancient city of Arlathan. She was witnessing the actual history of her people! This was what she truly desired, so much that she had foolishly asked the Dread Wolf to enlighten her on the subject earlier. And now that information was so close she could almost reach out and touch it.

Naia turned her attention back to the Well. There was so much more she needed to know. She did not break her gaze as she addressed the spirit.

“Do you know anything about what’s happening here?”

“I may be able to shed some light," the spirit responded. "For I have been around a very long time, seen a great deal of things—most of them long forgotten.”

“Why do these people have pointed ears?” she asked, idly rubbing her own round ones between her thumb and forefinger. It seemed the most obvious question.

“Ah. The shape of your ears is not the only thing your people have lost since the fall of Arlathan,” the spirit replied.

“I don’t understand," she said, turning to the spirit with a frown.

“There are many things you do not understand. That is why I brought you here.”

 _That’s not exactly an answer_ , Naia thought, but she moved on. “Can I see something else?”

“Whatever you like. Just tell the Well.”

Naia returned her gaze downward. She thought back to the very question she had asked the Beast earlier.

“Show me the gods of my people,” she commanded. "...Please," she added on instinct, as though she could have hurt the mirror's feelings somehow.

The image in the pool dissolved and resurfaced to show a group of about nine people humbly dressed in plain robes and standing together in a circle in the woods. Birds chirped brightly as the first light of day broke through the trees and onto nine bare, pointy-eared faces. They all seemed very focused, and in their hands they each held a small round orb. A soft, green glow began to emit from these objects as they chanted some unintelligible words, and a strange circular symbol shone on the ground between them. There was a faint humming noise, so soft she could barely hear it over the birds. One of the people spoke then, a tall man with a commanding tone and presence.

“What is he saying?” Naia asked, lamenting that she had only recognized one or two of the Elvhen words.

“Instructions of a sort. I believe they are pooling their combined magic to perform a rather large spell.”

 _So this is what magic looks like,_ she thought.  _Real magic_. She opened her mouth to ask another question but paused when another man in the circle spoke. He had bronze skin and long black hair that was tied back. His tone was softer, less commanding than the first man, but she was captivated by his voice. It sounded familiar, yet distant somehow, and though she did not know what he was saying, she could not help but give all of her attention to him. His eyes were a striking pool of clear grey, and his features were rather prominent: high cheekbones, a broad jaw, and just a hint of a dimple gracing a sharp chin. It was not a face one might easily forget, and she wondered just who he was. She wondered who they all were, until she realized there were _nine_ of them and she had just asked to be shown the _gods_.

“ _These_ are the Creators?” she asked aloud.

“Ah, not yet. This is before,” the spirit replied.

“Before what?”

“Arlathan.”

 _Before_ Arlathan? Naia had been so curious to know more about Arlathan that she hadn’t considered to ask what came _before_ its existence. This only added to her endless list of questions. She absentmindedly twisted the fabric of her skirt under her fingers as she reminded herself to be patient. She had a literal well of knowledge in front of her. All of her questions would be answered, in their own time.

“Then, I must know,” she began, taking her time, “How did Arlathan come to be?”

“I believe we may be seeing the answer to that question now,” the spirit responded. Naia looked intently into the mirror once more. She studied the faces of her beloved Creators, watched their movements and listened to their voices. Her gaze lingered a bit longer on the man with the long, dark hair. She found it difficult to look away. And then she was forced to, as a great, blinding green light emerged from the center of the circle, a result of their spell, no doubt. When it subsided, she found herself blinking down at her own face once more. She watched her brows furrow and her lips pull downward.

“Where did it go?” she asked.

“You’ve exhausted the Well’s resources, it would seem.”

 _Oh_. Naia tried to hide her disappointment as she stood up again and faced the spirit. “So, that’s it, then? How long until the Well is… less exhausted?”

“It’s difficult to say. The Well of Knowledge is a tricky thing. It wouldn’t do for just anyone to come along and abuse its powers. Be grateful that it deemed you worthy enough to grant you a glimpse,” the spirit responded.

“Oh, I am. And I will certainly be back here tomorrow night to try again. But…” She hesitated. She could not help but think back to her earlier conversation with the Beast. 

“Yes?”

“What I saw tonight, in the Well… The Creators. Were they… were they really gods?” She sighed, shaking her head. “That’s a stupid question. I just watched them perform powerful magic, of course they’re—”

“No,” the spirit cut her off. “They were not really gods. The mages you witnessed were just that—mages. Ordinary people with magical powers.”

“What? Really?” Naia could not believe it. She had naturally expected the Dread Wolf to be lying, but it appeared he may have been telling the truth, after all.

“Yes," the spirit confirmed. "Back then, the ability to use magic was common for every one of the Elvhen people. It is one of the many things your people lost after the fall of Arlathan. The men and women you saw tonight, however, were among the most powerful mages of your kind, the likes of which had never been seen before. Their combined efforts made them capable of near godlike powers. They even used their abilities to help build what would eventually become Arlathan, taking your people from obscurity into an advanced civilization. And they enchanted it to keep it hidden from human eyes for centuries, an unopposed empire they could preside over privately.” Godlike powers. Of course. Everything was making sense now. The gods her people worshipped were not actual deities, but they may as well have been, for all the power ascribed to them. Was it not a natural progression for people with immense power to gain followers over time? And they may not have been the creators of the _world_ , but they did create something—Arlathan. It was not so far off from what she'd always believed, but it still made her question everything she knew.

“I don’t understand,” Naia continued her thought process aloud, “If the gods were really mortals, didn’t they die at some point? How would they continue on to be worshipped?”

“That, I believe, is what we just witnessed,” the spirit concluded. “That spell—the green light you saw—that is where it all began. A few of the mages you saw were highly intelligent. The last one who was speaking, for example. Fen’harel, I believe.” Naia’s eyes widened slightly at this revelation. That man she’d gawked at was her Beast. “He was the cleverest of them all. It wasn’t his idea, though- it was that other one, the ambitious one. That Elgar’nan. He was the one who wanted to live forever. And the other one figured out how. That is why they gathered to combine their magic that fateful day. That is when they became immortal.”

“Oh,” was all Naia could manage. _Oh my Creators,_ she wanted to say. But she could not invoke the Creators anymore. She felt ill. Her body slumped to the ground.

There was so much to think about, and she needed time to digest it all. Everything she thought she knew had been turned upside down in one night. She wasn’t even sure she knew who she was anymore. She was Naia Lavellan, Dalish, ex-First, proud of her heritage and dedicated to the preservation of her people’s culture. Her whole life was strongly tied to the history of her people. And yet, everything she had been taught might very well be wrong.

She looked down at her hands, which had balled into fists. When had she pulled clumps of grass out of the ground? She let the blades slip between her fingers, watched them fall from her grasp as easily as everything she’d ever believed in.

She looked back up, and the meadow had suddenly grown dim and fog-ridden, making it difficult to see. Her mind felt equally cloudy and she longed for rest, but she could not properly do so while she was in the Fade. It was like being awake and asleep at the same time. As she began to slip out of consciousness, she quickly said her goodbyes to the spirit and thanked it for showing her the Well. Then she succumbed to deep sleep. All of her worries would have to wait until morning.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ir abelas, so sorry for the late update! And for the minimal interaction going on between our heroine and her Beast this chapter. But I promise there will be PLENTY in the next chapter ;)  
> I just very much needed to further establish some AU lore. I also realize now that my attempt to make Thedas work in a real-world setting was probably a mistake. But for some reason I just had to make a Solavellan BATB fic take place in historic France. bc France.
> 
> Anyway thanks for sticking with me and my fairy tale! Have I told you all how lovely you are??
> 
> I think I might switch my update days to Saturdays from now on, actually, so I will see you all in 2 weeks!


	7. Chapter Six

Sunlight streamed through the window in the early morning, showering Naia with both warmth and a rather unwelcome glare in her face. She rolled over onto her stomach, ignoring the sound of birds chirping noisily as she tried however pointlessly to gain a few extra minutes of sleep. But she’d hardly slept at all that night, and there was no use trying now.

Still, getting out of bed was the last thing she wanted to do. She opened her eyes and sat up. A new wardrobe greeted her that morning: an elegant, forest-green frock, just waiting for her to put it on and begin her day. She scowled at the thought.

She lay in bed for what might have been another hour before her traitorous stomach began to grumble. She supposed getting some food inside of her would not be a terrible idea. Besides, not having to cook was a blessing too good to pass up. She stood and walked right past the dress that was hanging up. She did not even bother to put something on her feet, though the stone floor beneath her was cold and rough. She reluctantly marched down to the dining room in only her nightclothes, then forced herself to drink a cup of coffee as she ate her breakfast. She could use the energy.

She could also use a distraction, she thought wearily. She had been avoiding thinking about the new information she’d learned last night. She willed herself to believe it had all been a crazy dream, but if that were so then she must not be awake yet, because she couldn’t escape this feeling of despair. Everything she thought she knew was wrong, the very foundations of her faith and her culture had crumbled to dust in one night.

She wandered the halls after breakfast, trying to further push these desolate thoughts from her mind, but it was no use. That’s when he found her, sitting on the ground in the hallway, eyes red and hair disheveled. She did not look up as he spoke.

“Little halla child running through the woods, lost, lonesome, afraid. Wanting to cry out but scared of what beasts might hear her in the dark. When did it get so dark? She cannot remember, cannot recall the way back. Home is never permanent, always moving, changing, rearranging. The trees feel foreign, leaves are falling all around. They crunch loudly beneath her feet as she runs, runs, runs away.” She looked up at him now. Cole’s head was tilted and his brows were drawn together. “You want to run away now, but you can’t. He made a promise, so you have to keep it. Keep them safe from the Beast. But you feel so lost, just like you did then.”

The memory he recollected had been from her childhood. She wondered if all spirits could simply see her memories whenever they wished. Was she an open book to them? And why was he reminding her of such a helpless moment in her life?

“Cole, what are you getting at?” she asked. If he was trying to help, then he wasn’t doing a very good job at it.

“You were lost, then, but then you weren’t. She found you. _Ame eth, Asha’lan_. _Everything will be alright_. Warm arms embrace you, carry you home. She thanks the Creators for returning her little girl and shows you how to pray when you are scared or alone. The prayers make you feel warm, comforted, protected. You especially like praying to Her, the Great Protector.”

It _was_ a fond memory in the end, Naia recalled. Although it had been the first time she’d ever been lost and afraid, she’d also learned how to cope with those feelings. From that day forward, whenever she was worried she would pray to the gods, call on them to help see her through. But now… now she knew that it had all been a lie. There was no one to hear her prayers. Mythal could not protect her now, the Great Protector nothing more than a great pretender. Naia had never felt so helpless in her life.

“You’ve lost so much. First Mother, then clan, then Keeper, and now family, freedom, faith. You worry that you will lose hope too, but why?”

“Because what have I to hope for?” she asked desperately, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes.

“Everything,” he responded simply, and the word cut through her fear like a knife. “You were lost, once, but then you were found. You’ve lost everything, so now you have nothing left to lose. All you can do is hope.”

 _Everything. I have everything to hope for._ He was right, and she knew it. If she was at the lowest point in her life, then the only direction to go was up. She summoned what courage she had left, wiped her tears and stood up.

“Thank you, Cole.”

The spirit boy smiled and disappeared.

Naia brushed herself off and headed back to her bedroom. She was still a bit shaken up, but she had a new purpose. If she could learn how to cope with feelings of despair once, then surely she could do it again. She would find a way.

_Anything is possible, da’halla. You simply have to go out and find it._

Her mother may be gone now, but her words still lingered. And her gods may have been false but she still had pride in her people. She still loved them and cared about their history and heritage, however erroneous their teachings may be. She still had much to learn, and if she ever made it out of this cursed castle, perhaps she could bring her findings back to her clan—or any clan that would have her. Anverelan might very well turn her away but she knew a certain First from clan Sabrae that would gladly take her in and listen to what she had to say. And even if she were truly stuck here forever, she would find a way to make contact with her people, somehow.

Of course, the Dalish Keepers might think her crazy, since she would have no evidence to back up her claims. But at the very least, there was one invaluable thing she could return to her people—their native language. She simply needed to commit to learning it, and she happened to know a very capable and willing teacher.

 

* * *

 

She arrived almost half an hour late for her lesson that afternoon, having had some last-minute doubts. But when she entered the room, he was still there, waiting patiently for her. She had thought about what she might say to him in advance, but when he looked up at her, her breath caught in her throat.

“You came.”

He looked almost relieved, and she was suddenly unsure how to respond. She no longer knew who this Beast in front of her really was, underneath it all. She had seen the real Fen’Harel last night, peered into his eyes and found passion there. Once, he had been a man. Not a god, but a normal person, not unlike her. Except of course that he possessed powers beyond her grasp, powers that she might have had as well, had she simply been born at the same time as him. She was so very curious, and he stood before her now, ready and willing to teach, perhaps afraid that she was unwilling to learn. But how could she be unwilling? This was exactly what she wanted. She took a deep breath and stepped forward.

“Yes. I’m ready.”

“Good. Then come with me, if you will. I have a surprise for you.” He waited for her response and she simply raised her brows. She had not been expecting that. When she did not answer him he began to walk past her, and she had no choice but to follow.

He brought her to a pair of long, embellished wooden doors at the end of a hallway, pausing just in front of them. The Beast turned to face her.

“This is it, just behind these doors. I… hope you like it.” Was she imagining it, or did she detect a hint of nervousness in his voice? No, not nerves. The Beast exuded composure at all times, as far as she could tell. Perhaps humility, then, though she had not previously thought him capable of such a thing. Apparently he was full of surprises today.

Naia offered a brief, reassuring smile and turned towards the doors in front of her. She gave a tentative push, and then proceeded to step inside the most massive library she had ever beheld. Her eyes were wide with wonder as they took in row after row of books. The entire library spanned three whole stories, with a spiral staircase in the center leading to the second and third floors. It was breathtaking.

The Beast watched her as she practically danced around the room, excitedly soaking in her new surroundings. For the first time since she’d come here, she did not feel the burden of her captivity weighing her down. In fact, she felt light as a feather as she flitted in and out of the many aisles of books. She picked up one particularly large one and thumbed through its pages. The words were in French, to her surprise. For such an old and especially Elvhen library, there must have been some sort of enchantment here as well, she concluded. She put the book back and returned to the front of the room, catching the Beast’s gaze with a genuine smile. He chuckled softly.

“I’m glad you like it.”

“Like it? I love it!” she exclaimed, clasping her hands together. “Thank you,” she added. It was a nice surprise, and rather thoughtful of him. She began to wonder what brought this about. Why had he thought to show her the library now, and how did he know she would be so elated by books? She glanced around briefly before studying him curiously.

“I hope everything is to your satisfaction,” he said.

“Oh! Yes, it is. I mean, it’s all so wonderful. I just… I was wondering why you did this? I mean, why not tell me about the library sooner? Why surprise me all of a sudden?”

“I… truthfully, until yesterday I was uncertain that you even knew how to read,” he explained. It was a fair point; not many peasant girls did. “And you seem like a fairly curious young woman, asking the right questions and braving Elvhen lessons with one such as myself, all for the sake of knowledge. I thought perhaps you might enjoy yourself in here.”

“One such as yourself…?”

“You have made it no secret how you feel about me,” he responded, and she almost felt a hint of guilt at that. Perhaps she had been too hard on him. “Anyway, I am glad this library can be of use to someone. It has been a very long time since anyone has been able to utilize its resources. I would make use of it myself, if only I had opposable thumbs,” he jested. But Naia frowned in confusion. Wasn’t the Dread Wolf a shapeshifter? Come to think of it, he had not changed his shape once since she arrived.

“You can’t change your shape.” It wasn’t a question, but the Beast nodded slowly.

“I was wondering when that would occur to you,” he said, looking away. Naia was perplexed. Why couldn’t he change shape? He’d been a man once; she’d seen it with her own eyes. Yet he had not found it necessary to tell her about this earlier. Why? For fear that she would not believe him, perhaps? She couldn’t say she blamed him for that. Up until recently, she would not have believed anything that came out of that dreadful snout. But now… now she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. She inched closer to him, forcing herself to look directly at his beastly face, a face he was perhaps stuck with indefinitely. His crimson eyes were focused elsewhere, lost in thought as she studied him.

“ _I_ _r abelas_.” The words spilled softly from her lips like a whispered confession, surprising her. But they held truth; she _was_ filled with sorrow. As much as she wanted to loathe the wolf in front of her, she found herself wanting to understand him more and more. He met her gaze now, brow raised.

“ _Ma serannas, lethallan_ , but you must not force yourself to pity me,” he said softly, then, changing the subject (to her relief), “If you’d like, we can continue to meet here for our lessons each afternoon. Although I suspect that after today you will be spending all of your time in here, anyhow,” he concluded in a jovial tone. Was he making fun of her?

“Ha! Do you think you know me so well already? You’re wrong,” she teased, daring eyes meeting his. “As long as the weather permits, I’ll be doing my reading in the gardens, thank you very much.” They shared a soft laugh, and Naia was surprised to find that she had grown comfortable enough with her Beast to tease him so. But she was still in good spirits from the wonderful surprise.

“ _Ar ame sathem_. I am glad that you can find some small joy in this lonesome fortress of mine.” _So am I_ , she thought with a smile. “Did I mention the library was enchanted?" he continued. "Books appear from all around the land, as soon as they are published. That is why there are so many.” That explained the French. Her eyes lit up.

“In that case, I can’t wait to start reading!”

“After our lesson, _lethallan_. We mustn’t neglect our studies,” he chided.

“Right, right. Of course.” She tried to don a more serious expression, but a grin kept slipping onto her face. She now had two things to look forward to during her indefinite stay here: Elvhen lessons, and what appeared to be all the books in France.

 

* * *

 

After their lesson, Naia proceeded to prove the Dread Wolf right in his presumption of her behavior. She spent the remainder of the afternoon in the library, browsing and reading to her heart’s content.

She was almost looking forward to dinner that evening, even. There was a definite shift in the atmosphere between them, like all previous tension had lifted. When Naia looked at him now, she could not help but picture the grey-eyed man she'd seen in the Well. When she talked to him, she addressed him as a man, not a monster; and when she arrived to dinner that evening, he addressed her as “ _lethallan_.”

“That’s the third time you’ve called me that today,” Naia pointed out as she settled down in her usual seat.

“Ah. I was considering how best to address you, given the mistake I made the previous time. _Lethallan_ seemed… appropriate,” he explained. He was not wrong, Naia thought. Calling her _da’len_ had felt almost _inappropriate_ , in fact, given their situation. It was patronizing, if she was being frank. But now, by calling her _lethallan,_ he was acknowledging her as kin, as an equal. And they _were_ kin; they did have shared history, after all.

Of course, their “shared history” was something Naia still knew very little about, a history that her Beast had actually had a hand in creating, thousands of years ago. She wanted to ask him about it, about everything, but she was still troubled by the events of last night, and she wasn’t certain she was ready to learn more just yet.

“And what shall I call you?” Naia asked. In her head she had been referring to him as the Beast—no, _her_ Beast. When had she started thinking of him as _hers_? And why? In any case, that was not exactly something she could call him out loud.

“You may call me whatever you like,” he replied. She considered it for a moment.

“ _Lethallin_ will have to do for now, I think.” He seemed content with this.

“Then it is settled.”

They made polite, casual conversation as Naia ate, and she found herself feeling much calmer than she could remember being in the past few days. She savored her food a little bit longer, even enjoying a sip or two of her wine. She was not in a terrible rush to leave the table when she finished, as she normally would have been. Perhaps she did not mind spending time with her Beast after all.

 

* * *

 

The next couple of weeks, Naia settled into a bit of a comfortable routine: her days were spent reading or weaving, learning Elvhen in the afternoons, dining with her Beast in the evenings and entering the Fade in her dreams. For a while she avoided seeking out the Well of Knowledge, not entirely prepared to face the truth just yet. She was curious but concerned that learning more of her people’s history might be too upsetting. Better to build up courage first. In the meantime she visited the kind spirit, who’d introduced itself as Comfort, and together they travelled through lingering memories of the Fade.

She learned that the Fade was connected to the real world geographically, and the part of the Fade she visited at night was attached to the place where she slept. She could move around from place to place, but she had limited time to explore. The Well, however, was something that was not fixed in a singular place, but rather appeared wherever and whenever there was a need for it. Furthermore, the Fade typically appeared different to different people, at least according to Comfort. People typically saw what the Fade wanted them to see, so she learned not to trust her eyes, but her instincts. With that knowledge, she was able to truly open her mind to the Fade, viewing latent memories that dwelled there as well as spirits in their true form (though she allowed Comfort to keep her mother’s countenance).

The memories that lingered in the castle were few and hard to capture, Naia soon learned. They were scenes from a time long gone, a time when people filled the now empty halls. Any conversations overheard were in Elvhen, and though Comfort could translate, oftentimes she still did not understand what she was witnessing. It was a different time, and she required more context. If she wanted to learn about the past, Comfort explained, she simply would have to seek the Well.

But the things she’d seen in the Well were not so easily overcome. She needed to focus on her own recovery first, and with Comfort's help, she was able to endure. Occasionally Cole would come around to offer helpful insights, and even being around her Beast helped her to forget her pain, strangely enough. They were able to speak as equals now and converse about things that did not remind her of her present woes, such as how her day went or what books she was reading. Most of the time she tried to angle the conversation towards the subject of her Beast, to learn more about him and his nature. He, in turn, questioned her about herself, and seemed to enjoy learning about her.

“What is it like, being immortal?” she asked casually one day. Naia had just finished her dinner and they were sitting in silence for a while, just enjoying each other’s company. The question had been on her mind for days, but she hadn’t worked up the courage to ask it until now. Her Beast seemed unsurprised by the query, nor was his answer tentative.

“Lonely.”

 _Oh_. What else had she expected him to say? Of course he must be lonely. Once upon a time, he’d had kin, probably a family, not to mention an entire empire at his fingertips, and now it seemed he had no one at all. Which was probably his own fault, she reminded herself, unless of course the Great Betrayal was something else the Dalish got wildly wrong.

She hated being ignorant of the truth. As the weeks passed, she found herself wondering about her Beast’s side of the story more and more. And so, that very night she made up her mind to finally seek the Well again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovely readers! So I know I said I was switching to Saturdays but you are all getting an early chapter this time bc I will be away at katsucon all weekend! If anyone's going, I'll be dressed as Bethany Hawke (grey warden flavor) on Saturday if you want to say hi :D
> 
>  
> 
> translations:  
> ir abelas – I am sorry/filled with sorrow  
> ame eth, asha’lan- you are safe, daughter  
> ar ame sathem: I am pleased/pleased to help


	8. Chapter Seven

The Well yielded easily to her search, and Naia found herself staring once again into those cool, grey eyes. The Dread Wolf sat, young and refined, amongst his peers. His thick, dark hair was pulled back, revealing two closely-shaven sections perfectly framing his pointed ears. He was dressed in significantly finer robes than the last time she’d seen him; colorful, thin fabric loosely draped across his arms and chest, opening at the neck to reveal a hint of bare skin beneath. He was beginning to look the part of a god, rather than a humble young peasant. The other gods were similarly well adorned.

Fen’Harel began to address them, his posture indicating nonchalance as he leaned back in his chair, head resting on one loose fist. His words were only half comprehensible to her, but his typical honeyed voice made it difficult to focus on anything else.

“What did he just say?” she whispered to her spirit companion.

“He is proposing a meeting of minds, claiming that only the wisest and most intelligent of the People should have a say in their new government.”

He was talking _politics?_  From the way he held himself, the Dread Wolf did not look like he was saying anything of significance. Except that, she realized, he was amongst friends. And they were sitting around casually, as friends do, only they were discussing the important matter of how to best govern their new nation.

 _Elvhenan_. To Naia, it no longer existed at all, except in fairy tales told amongst her people of a time long gone. In that time, it had been a small but formidable empire in its own right. Here, in the scene played out before her, it was brand new. To witness it now, before its rise to glory, was a dream come true.

Another person spoke now, a woman with long, white hair and striking yellow eyes. Tall and slender, she held herself with an air of importance, and all eyes were on her.

“She says that she agrees with him. Wisdom, and not strength, should determine who governs,” Comfort translated. There were nods of approval from some of the others.

“Who is she?” Naia asked.

“That,” said Comfort, “is Mythal.”

So this was her, then. The Protector, the All-Mother. Naia had been curious about Mythal most, besides the Dread Wolf of course.

Comfort translated for Naia as the others took turns speaking their piece.

“Why not a combination of both? Power _and_ wit,” one said. Many seemed to be in agreement with that. But Fen’Harel’s visage fell slightly, briefly enough for perhaps only her to notice.

“Andruil speaks wisely,” came another voice.

So the woman who’d made the suggestion had been the goddess of the hunt, Andruil. She was beaming at the man who’d complimented her. In fact, all eyes were on him. He sat next to Mythal, tall and broad and commanding.

“Elgar’nan,” Naia guessed aloud.

“Yes,” Comfort confirmed.

“But in measuring one’s ability to rule by one’s strength, does that not present an unfair advantage against the meek?” Fen’Harel was speaking again, this time sitting upright to counter the “All-Father.” Mythal answered him instead.

“It is the unspoken responsibility of the strong to protect those who can not stand up for themselves, I think.”

“And if they don’t? What then?” Fen’Harel’s voice and posture remained composed, but Naia thought his eyes seemed more vibrant than before.

“Then they will be punished,” Mythal responded simply. Murmurs of approval filled the room. Everyone seemed to agree that Mythal’s statement was wise. The two gods held each other’s gazes for a moment longer. Naia thought the Wolf meant to say something, but he shrugged instead and eased back into his earlier, idle position on the chair.

“Fair enough,” he muttered, defeated. Someone else spoke then, but Naia watched the Dread Wolf’s gaze slip away. He looked across from him at a girl Naia had not noticed until now, for she was the only one who had not yet spoken up. She was not overly noteworthy, small in stature from what Naia could tell, with brown skin and eyes and a tumble of short white curls framing her face. She met Fen’Harel’s gaze with what could perhaps be perceived as admiration, then quickly shifted her eyes downward.

Naia’s brows knitted together. This young Dread Wolf was certainly a puzzle to her. His ideas were interesting, maybe even wise, if his motive behind them was truly to serve the People. Yet his demeanor reflected a less mature nature than his words, which were carefully chosen, as always. But this was a much younger man than the Beast she knew today, and she wondered how much he had truly changed between then and now.

“Yes, why favor intelligence over strength? The weak have no place in command,” Comfort translated when another god spoke. Fen’Harel sighed, loudly.

“Intelligence is a hidden strength that must not be mistakenly overlooked by physical or magical prowess,” he said in a bored voice.

“An excellent point.” Mythal again.

“May I propose an easier solution to our problem?” another god chimed in, perhaps Dirthamen or June. He stood.

“An exclusive government, plain and simple. Each of the qualities we have discussed today can be found in each one of us. Why not simply take control ourselves? The nine of us, no outsiders. _We_ will govern the People. They need us. Already they look to us for guidance. Why not assume our natural roles of leadership?”

There were murmurs all around. Comfort could no longer translate as voices began to overlap. Naia hadn't considered that the gods had not yet discussed this already, the idea of them ruling exclusively. At this point, in fact, they were probably not even considered gods yet by their people. But this was where it began, wasn’t it? Soon they would establish their leadership over the People, and before long they would be exalted as gods, whether through their own mechanisms or the natural course of an ever-advancing civilization hungry for guidance and purpose.

The scene faded, and another took its place.

Elgar’nan and Mythal stood in front of a crowd of bare-faced elves. They held each other’s hands, surrounded on either side by the other seven gods. All were dressed lavishly, but Mythal and Elgar’nan clearly stood out. Mythal’s ivory hair had been pinned back intricately, adorned with tiny red gems that complemented a thick, silver piece around her neck. Elgar’nan wore a similar gold piece across his forehead, woven into his equally golden hair. They looked positively regal.

Behind them, workers toiled under the sun to put together structures that would eventually become buildings—a city still in the process of being built. There were onlookers who stood and spoke to them, but did not participate. Those people were dressed differently, perhaps indicating a higher position. She watched the workers, the beginnings of a working class, she imagined. First they used magic to shape the stones, making them more ideal in appearance. Then they used their hands to lay the stone, their labor equal parts physical and magical. She imagined that magic must have its limitations, otherwise the People would simply use magic for everything. She wondered what those limitations were, and how they perhaps differed for the Evanuris, who clearly held an abundance of power over everyone else. And just what were they planning to do with that power, exactly?

It was a question the Well could never answer. She could see the actions of the people in front of her, but never their thoughts, never their feelings. Except that she lived with one of them, and she thought that he might be able to shed some light for her, if she’d only ask. She watched him as he stood gloriously in the sunlight, his hair longer now and thick like a lion’s, with a wolf pelt draped over one shoulder. It was very becoming, she thought.

Next to him, she saw the same quiet young woman with the white curls. She looked much more prominent than last time. Her head was held high and her hair was pinned back in two places to reveal her pointed brown ears and defined cheekbones. A thin, gold chain connected the two spots where her hair was pinned, resting on her forehead with a small white stone in the center. Fen’Harel turned to her and leaned over, and Naia thought for a second that he meant to kiss her. Instead, he whispered something into her ear. The young woman smiled as he pulled away, and Naia let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.

“Who is she?” she wondered aloud.

“The girl? That is the youngest of the gods, Ghilan’nain,” Comfort replied, but it hardly answered her question.

Just then, two workers wheeled out a tall, flat object covered in fine red cloth. Stopping just beside the All-Mother, they lifted it and then carefully placed it down on the ground, its fat base allowing it to stand on its own. Mythal addressed the crowd.

“She is saying it is an honor today to unveil their latest effort to better the lives of the People,” Comfort explained. “It has been a long time in the making, but now they finally can reveal this gift they worked so hard to create.”

With a gesture of her hand, the workers removed the cloth to reveal a spectacular mirror. It was _shimmering_ , as if there were something on the other side of it, just past its surface. Naia wondered what, if anything, that might be. She had heard of her people using mirrors before, as more than just a means of reflection. She was told that one existed in every place of importance, belonging to someone of significance. The Dalish Keepers believed they were used in some sort of ritual in order to see the future, but Naia had never believed that. If the Elvhen could have seen the future, would they not have seen their own demise coming?

Yet here she stood, gazing into a sort of mirror that showed her the past. She wondered if the glowing, glass mirror performed a similar function. And then, without warning, the scene disappeared.

 

* * *

 

“May I ask you something, _lethallin_?”

They were at the dinner table. She had moved her chair slightly closer to his a few days ago, so that they might converse more easily. With only one empty seat between them now, he watched her curiously. She did not wait for an answer. The answer to that question was always _yes_.

“Say that the gods weren’t really gods, as you’ve claimed. Say they were just people, with certain powers,” she began, slowly. It wasn’t a question, yet. He nodded for her to continue.

“Why encourage the pretense? I’ve thought about it, and I can understand a certain… natural progression of elevating a ruler to godhood. There’s ancient Egypt, the Roman Empire… It has been known to happen. But was it something the Evanuris claimed from the start, or was it an assumption made by the people over time, perhaps never questioned or proven otherwise? And why, then,” she eagerly went on, “allow the falsehood to continue? I mean, I can think of a number of reasons, but I must know… that is, if what you say is true, I have to understand why….” She paused. She had not thought this through fully, and at this point she could go on forever, asking endless questions. She waited for him to answer one first. He looked her over, his ears raised high, thinking.

“You wish to know why your beloved deities would feign godhood,” he began after a moment. He closed his eyes, all six of them, briefly, then held her wide-eyed gaze. “You would be correct to assume that godhood was thrust upon us. The People had long lifespans back then, three times as long, perhaps, as what your people have now. But the Evanuris were truly immortal, never aging, never growing ill, and omnipotent, as far as anyone could tell. How was anyone to know that we were not gods? Indeed, even we were not entirely certain of the truth, after a number of centuries. It did not take long for all of that power to go to our heads, as you can imagine. Being worshipped became a natural part of our lives, but the truth is that it was never encouraged, never asked of the people to exalt us so. But neither was it contradicted, by any of us. I would be lying if I told you we did not enjoy it, though a few of us questioned it from time to time.”

“ _A few of us_?”

“We were not always of the same opinion," he explained. "Each one of us gained our own lands, our own followers, and our own set of beliefs. When one of us challenged another’s beliefs, not much could be done about it. We needed to remain within our own boundaries. We had painted ourselves into a corner; we could not appear as anything less than what we had established ourselves to be. We could not appear _mortal_.” He paused for emphasis, inclining his body towards her. “Can you imagine what might happen then, if it was discovered that the Creators themselves were merely pretenders?” Her eyes widened in further understanding.

“The entire foundation of Elvhenan would crumble,” she responded in a quiet voice. He nodded.

“There is your answer, _lethallan_.”

 

* * *

 

Naia wandered the lonesome hallways after dinner, her mind restless. More and more, her Beast was becoming tangible to her. She was able to imagine now what it might have been like to live in his world, in Arlathan.

She thought of Ghilan'nain, the younger, gentler of the gods. Legend said she was the first halla, representing innocence and granting safe travels. But how had that legend come to be? Naia had always understood that Ghilan’nain was not originally a goddess, but an ordinary person killed at the hands of a hunter and later granted immortality in the form of a halla. Yet there she'd stood, amongst the others, a goddess in her own right.  
  
And what about the way Fen'Harel had looked at her? What had he whispered to her during the ceremony to elicit that sweet smile? Could they have been more than friends? None of the legends indicated a romance between them—not like Mythal and Elgar'nan, at least.

Naia came to a halt in front of a window overlooking the back of the castle. It was dark, but the moon was half full, casting a faint glow and creating darker shadows. There was a ledge here that was low and wide enough for her to sit upon and gaze at the sky.

She wondered what it might have been like to get to know her Beast under different circumstances. What if he'd been a man and not a beast at all? What if she were not his prisoner and not denied freedom from this castle? She might have even come to love this place, perhaps. It was beautiful; that she could not deny. A bit extravagant for her tastes, but then she was used to more humble living situations. And if the Dread Wolf had courted her not as a monster but as a man, would she have turned him down? That she could not say.

She didn't even see him as a monster anymore, not really. But regardless of his unexpectedly kind nature, he was still her captor. She must not forget that.

Just then a sudden movement caught her attention on the castle grounds. It was difficult to see, but there were definitely a few trees rustling below, though there was no wind. Perhaps it was a wild animal? As far as she knew, the only animal inhabiting this island was the magical halla, which she had not seen since her arrival, strangely enough. She squinted to try and get a better look.

Naia watched as a dark figure emerged from trees, a lifeless form dangling from its mouth.  It was a smaller, dead animal, and its predator, enormous and still half-cloaked in shadow, was preparing to feast upon its carcass. She pictured all of the different types of beasts she'd ever seen or heard about, imagined all the possibilities of what might be prowling in the dark. But then the creature moved fully into the moonlight, and her stomach turned.

It was gruesome. Large, sharp fangs tore through flesh, easily ripping out the smaller creature's organs. Naia gasped and turned away. She couldn't bring herself to watch this beast... _her_ _Beast_.

She sat for a while, gathering her courage, before giving one last look out at the display…

...and froze in her spot.

The Beast stood very still, entrails hanging from his snout. All six eyes were trained on her, and she realized, with dread, that this window would be the only one in the entire castle with a light in it. She had drawn his attention directly to her.

He watched her for another agonizing moment, unmoving, eyes wide. And then he turned and ran, fast, into the night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the late update! I've been awfully busy, but I think it might be best to update less often so that I am not giving you shoddy, hastily-written chapters. I think I'll start updating every 3 weeks from now on.
> 
> Anyway! I completely forgot to do this before but I absolutely must to give a shout-out to my amazing beta-reader, veeahknee! She is an absolute sweetheart and if you like my story, you can thank her because it would truly suffer without her brilliant insight.
> 
> See you in 3 weeks!


	9. Chapter Eight

Naia watched helplessly as the Dread Wolf disappeared into the shadows. She needed a moment to process the image of her Beast brutally devouring a small animal.

Her _Beast_. Not a man, not anymore. For whatever reason, he was trapped in this form. He spoke like a man, lived under a roof like a man and even behaved like a gentleman, but he was still an animal in every other sense of the word. Wouldn’t he naturally be forced to dine like one? In that case, the spectacle she'd just witnessed should not surprise her at all. And yet, the look of absolute _terror_ on his face when he’d seen her….

He’d meant to keep this a secret from her—that much was obvious. All those dinners spent patiently sitting by her side, engaging her in polite conversation but unable to join in the meal. He must have been starving, unable to do anything about that fact until she had retired for the night. And then he was forced to eat in secret, all alone. She truly felt sorry for him. When was the last time he’d actually shared a meal with someone?

And what must he be feeling right this moment? Was he embarrassed? Scared? Ashamed? She had never seen him look the way he did at her tonight. As far as she could tell, he was always calm and collected. And though he’d run away, though he was probably seeking solitude right now, the thought crossed her mind to go after him, to reassure him.

It also crossed her mind that she still did not know him well enough to predict his actions. Perhaps he needed to be alone right now; perhaps her presence would only anger him. Besides, she was having a difficult time forgetting the image of her Beast with his fangs bared and bloody, dripping with the innards of another animal.

Her stomach turned over again and instantly her hands flew to the latch of the window in front of her. She threw it open and relieved her stomach of its contents onto the grounds below.

 

* * *

 

She tried to find him that morning, looking almost everywhere inside and out of the castle, but he somehow managed to evade her. She wondered briefly if he’d left the castle, fleeing without a word. But where could he have gone, and how? She knew it was unlikely and yet the thought of being abandoned made her uneasy.

When it came time for their afternoon lesson, however, he was waiting for her in the library, gazing out of the window with his back turned mostly to her. She shuffled her feet a bit as she entered so as not to startle him, but he did not move or otherwise acknowledge her presence.

“ _Savhalla, lethallin_ ,” she greeted softly, almost as if she could scare him away by being too loud. He inhaled slowly, but otherwise remained still. She took a careful step forward, then another.

“ _Ea son_?” she offered. Another step.

He stole a glance at her, briefly, before returning his gaze to the window. His eyes were unfocused and when he spoke, his voice came out somewhat unsteady, as though he were fighting for control of it.

“You were not supposed to see that. _Ir abelas_ , Naia. I came to tell you that if you wish me to leave you alone from now on, I will do all I can to oblige you.”

She was shaking her head, though she knew he could not see. She took another tentative step.

“Now why would I want such a thing?” she asked, mimicking his usual honeyed voice as best she could. She wanted to convey sweetness, to let him know her true feelings without having to say them. He did not seem to pick up on it.

“You must think me little more than a terrible beast,” he said in a small voice.

“On the contrary, I think you’re a wonderful beast,” she whispered, close enough now for him to hear. Close enough to—

He stilled under her touch.

His fur was smooth, softer than expected, and warm. It was a small, simple gesture of kindness, nothing more. He turned to face her fully then, his expression ridden with confusion and uncertainty. She let her arm fall back to her side.

“Are you not very frightened of me, Naia?” If she didn’t know better, she’d say that he was the one who was frightened right now, with the way that he was looking at her. The thought of it tugged at her heart.

“Why, because you are a beast? But this is old news, _lethallin_. You and I have been living under the same roof for a month, now. Nothing has changed,” she assured him. He shook his big, fluffy head, looking away.

“Everything has changed. You saw me, saw what I did… what I have to do.”

“You have to do what any other beast must in order to survive, _lethallin_. This is nature’s way. I am not some scared little shemlen child who has never seen a wild animal before,” she informed him with a sly but genuine smile. He looked at her curiously in that moment. It was almost as if he were the prisoner instead, and she the sole window overlooking his freedom. She wanted to reach out and touch him again, to comfort him, but she held back.

“ _Ir abelas_ ,” was all he managed to say.

“You said that already,” she reminded him. He exhaled. 

“If you'd like,” she began, “I mean, if you need to be alone, we can postpone our lesson.” His mouth pulled downward.

“No, that will not be necessary,” he informed her, and all the uncertainty and lack of control in his voice suddenly melted away. She smiled again, and they carried on as though nothing had changed between them, teacher and student, beast and beauty, kindred souls each trying to find their way through the dark.

 

* * *

 

Nothing had changed, and yet _something_ had, though Naia could not say what. There was now a general sense of ease to her life that she’d lacked before. She even caught herself smiling on a few occasions, completely unprompted.

She was smiling the day that she found the book. She had been browsing her library one afternoon, familiarizing herself with its contents and not quite sure what she was in the mood to read. Then she came across the most curious thing: a large, but otherwise ordinary-looking book entitled _Le Champion_ , written by one Varric Tethras.

She almost could not believe her eyes. Could it really be the same Varric Tethras she knew, the young man who had taught her to read all those years ago? She pressed a hand gently to the book’s cover, her thumb idly tracing the letters of its title. So Varric had finally written down one of his many stories. Or all of them, she thought, judging from the size of the thing. And he’d actually gotten published! She felt a warmth spread through her chest and clutched the book to it, both happy for and proud of her former tutor. She could not wait to begin reading his story. The idea even felt like inviting an old friend into her new home, a sense of familiarity in a foreign land.

Perhaps that was what had changed recently. Naia felt much less _lonely_ than before. With her Beast, she could talk to him as one would speak to a friend, almost. She still had friends, she reminded herself. And when she opened Varric’s book after settling down outside under a particularly shady tree, she was overjoyed to see a brief dedication written on the first page:

_For Flowers,_

_Thank you for encouraging me when nobody else would._

Flowers. The old nickname brought back memories of home, along with a fresh longing for it. She had almost forgotten that he used to call her that. Varric Tethras had nicknames for everyone. Flowers had come about because as a child she’d always worn garlands of flowers in her hair, when the season was right. Creators, it had been _ages_ since she’d last done that.

But he had not forgotten it, her short and charming friend. Apparently she’d made a big enough impact on his life that he’d thought to thank her—to _dedicate_ his book to her. It was touching, and the personal note almost made her feel as if she’d received a secret message from someone outside of the castle. And though she felt significantly less lonely now, it reminded her just how much she craved outside contact. She set the book aside for just a moment to take a walk through the gardens as she reminisced.

Naia wanted so much to talk to someone—anyone, really—who was not the Dread Wolf or a spirit of the Fade. But she was stuck on this island with no way to contact the outside world. Frustrated, she kicked at a tall bed of flowers without thinking. Embriums, to be exact. She cursed and bent down to undo any damage her foot might have caused, but there was none. She cupped one large bloom in her hand and stared at it.

“Stupid embrium. It’s all your fault I’m stuck here, you know,” she muttered bitterly. She watched the flower, as if expecting it to retort, and frowned.

“One unassuming little blossom. Why are you so important to my Beast, hmm?” She pulled at it until it popped off into her hand. How simple it was to pick a flower, something she’d done daily as a child. Now the act held another meaning for her entirely. She pulled the stem out of the ground, and then another one with a flower attached. She meticulously wrapped the stem of one around the other and then did the same with more stems, until the first was fully covered in flowers. She then carefully tucked the garland into her hair and behind her ears, glancing in a nearby fountain to admire her handiwork.

She kicked off her shoes after that to authenticate the look: a Dalish girl through and through, barefoot with flowers in her hair. She imagined for a moment what it might be like to be home with her clan again, laughing and dancing, singing old Elvhen songs whose words have now lost meaning, and sleeping under the stars instead of a roof. She missed everything about it, of course, but mostly she just missed her family. She had spent seven years living with them on that farm, wanting nothing more than to return to her clan. Now, however, she would give just about anything to be with her family again; it did not matter where. Home was where her family was.

She might even be content calling this castle her home, if her family were here with her. She closed her eyes and let herself imagine her sisters and brother running through the labyrinthine halls, chasing each other and laughing, or outside in the gardens with her. She pictured herself reading to her Father beside the fireplace in the library after a long day. And her Beast…. She was not exactly sure where her Beast fit into this fantasy of hers. She was surprised to have pictured him in it at all. Would she be content living here with him if her family were here, too? But she knew it could never be. The Beast had told her father that he could never see her again. Yet he’d never mentioned anything about communicating with her otherwise.

That was when she remembered that she’d planned on asking her Beast about writing to her family. It seemed forever ago, and guilt crept up inside of her for letting herself forget about it, but she hadn’t been brave enough to ask it of him at the time. And now, after all they’d been through—now was as good a time as any, she figured.

She settled back down under the tree with Varric’s book. Her plan could wait until tonight, she decided. For now, she was content to distract herself from all concerns.

 _Le Champion_ turned out to be perfect for that. The book sucked her in until she was utterly lost within its pages. Before she knew it, the sky had grown dark and she was forced to return indoors. There was still an hour more until dinnertime, though, and so she took a seat in the library and resumed reading. It wasn’t until the clock chimed quarter past seven that she realized the time.

“ _Fenedhis_!” The Elvhen curse slipped out as she had flashbacks of being late for meetings with Deshanna for the exact same reason: getting lost in a ridiculously good book. Naia turned red despite the lack of audience for her slip of the tongue, and prayed she would not accidentally mutter that word in front of her Beast, _ever_.

She folded the corner of the page she was on to save her place, and told herself that she would return immediately after dinner to discover if the valiant Ser Hawke could defeat the horned giant from a far-off land.

 

* * *

 

The corner of the Dread Wolf’s mouth was pulled upward as he took in Naia’s flushed face and lightly panting breaths.

“Forgive me, _lethallin_ , I was just…”

“Distracted?” he finished for her. She nodded. “It is quite alright, _lethallan_. Your time belongs to you alone; I would not hold that against you. Though I admit you have piqued my curiosity. You have never been late to dinner thus far, and so I must wonder what it is that stole your attention from me. Shall I be jealous?” If her face hadn’t already been flushed it might have done so now. She took her seat and adjusted her skirts, fiddling with the fabric a bit.

“Not at all. I just lost track of time, you see. I was… well, I was reading a fascinating book, actually,” she confessed. He grinned.

“If it is as good as you say, then perhaps you would care to tell me about it when you have finished,” he said. She returned the smile.

“I would love to.”

As she began to eat the meal that was laid out for her, she could feel his eyes on her, watching her intently. She paused, swallowing, and then cleared her throat awkwardly. There was an amused sort of look on his face. She put down her fork and picked up a napkin.

“Do I have something on my face?” she asked. She would not have been embarrassed if she did; she just wished he would say so.

“Forgive me. I was just admiring your delicate yet impressive craftsmanship.” He nodded towards her, and her brow furrowed.

“My… oh!” Her hand flew to her hair and met the soft petals residing there. She had completely forgotten about the garland from earlier. Her face became warm as she realized how ridiculous she must look.

“I was just playing around—completely forgot—I-I don’t normally—my goodness that’s embarrassing,” she stuttered.

He chuckled. “I cannot see why. I find it rather endearing,” he admitted.

“For a typical Dalish girl,” she remarked, shaking her head. Was she embarrassed by her own culture now? But it was so _very_ typical, and perhaps she wanted him to see her as more than that, though she could not say why it mattered to her.

“I would never mistake you for a typical Dalish girl, Naia.” She frowned at that, remembering her Beast’s disdain for her people. She thought of the other girls and women in her clan. Who was she to think herself above them? They were her kin. What if one of them were sitting here in her place? What if it were Nehna, or Enasta? Were they not also worthy of his admiration and kindness?

The thought of her sisters instantly brought her plan back to mind. She still had yet to ask the Dread Wolf about writing to them.

“ _Lethallin_ ,” she began after a deep breath, “I was wondering if, well….” Surely he noticed how tense she’d grown. Even though it was her friend sitting before her, all she could see was the wolf, his crimson eyes staring her down. And then his voice rang through her uncertainty, all honey and silver.

“You do not need to be afraid to speak your mind, _lethallan_.” She exhaled, shoulders relaxing.

“Right. Well, then. I have a favor to ask of you. Well, more of a request than a favor, though I suspect I’ll need your help if you agree to it.” He had to allow her this, she thought. If he didn’t…. She forced herself to think about that for a second. If he did not agree to it, then perhaps he was not the same kind, lonely soul she thought she had come to know.

He nodded for her to continue, and his patience only encouraged her determination.

“I would like to write to my family.”

There was a pause, and Naia grew tense again as the wolf's expression became unreadable.

“That is, would that even be possible?” she added. She had not considered that until now; perhaps it was the cause of his hesitation. He looked solemn as he responded.

“In the traditional sense, no. But I cannot lie to you, _lethallan_. There is a way in which contacting your family would be possible. I am not entirely sure it would be wise, however. I—” he paused again, and looked at her apologetically. “ _Ir abelas_. Perhaps you would allow me some time to think on it? There are… considerations.”

She tried not to betray her feelings of disappointment. It was not a “no,” and yet it was not an adequate answer, either. Still, she had no choice but to accept it for now. Perhaps she could convince him to help her, in time. He had to see reason eventually, hadn’t he? He was already holding her captive here; didn’t he _owe_ her this? She sighed inwardly.

“Take all the time you need.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry for the late update! I didn't realize I said I'd update last weekend, and I feel terrible. But I am still fully committed to this story, and it is because I have readers who tell me they like it, so please- if you're enjoying the story don't be afraid to say so! Leave me a comment, or if you're brave you can always head to my tumblr (bardinhightown) and drop me an ask! I thrive on your encouragement!  
> Shout out once again to veeahknee for being an amazing beta reader. My fairy tale would be a hot mess without her ehehe  
> Anyway once again this story updates once every 3 weekends (I swear I'll get it right this time)- Dareth shiral!
> 
> Translations:  
> Savhalla – hello/greetings  
> Ea son? – are you well?  
> Ir abelas – I am sorry  
> Fenedhis- technically “fuck”, literally “wolf cock”- hence her embarrassment. I have a terrible sense of humor I apologize


	10. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naia returns to the Fade and witnesses a day in the life of young Fen'Harel. The good news is- it's an extra-long chapter! To make up for the late update last time. The bad news, no interaction between Naia and our favorite Beast until next time. Sorry, folks!

The familiar, gentle pull at Naia’s mind returned that night in her sleep, bidding her once more to enter the Fade. She submitted, and was met again by the face of her mother, the face that now belonged to her spirit companion.

They walked together for a time, hand in hand, until Comfort came to a halt, concern flooding the spirit’s features.

“Something is troubling you, child. Tell me.”

Comfort always knew how to make her feel better, though Naia supposed that was just her job. Her trips to the Fade were a welcome, almost necessary distraction from her strange new life—the seemingly infinite atmosphere a perfect counter to the cold, encompassing walls of the castle. She was glad for someone to talk to besides her Beast, as well. Especially since her Beast was the current subject of her woes.

Briefly she relayed her situation to her friend: her desire to contact her family and her Beast’s reluctance to comply. As she spoke, the dirt road below and emerald sky above dissolved, shaped by the spirit’s will, and she was once again surrounded by the familiar camp of her people. This time they sat by a creek, and she rested her head in Comfort’s lap, lulled by the gentle flow of water over rocks.

“And his answer upsets you, does it?” the spirit inquired.

“It is not much of an answer, is it?” she responded with a sigh. “He is keeping me away from my family. The least he could do is let me make sure that they are alright.”

“What were his words, exactly?”

“That it wouldn’t be wise,” she repeated. “Or... _traditional_?" She shook her head in frustration. "Who knows what he means. He claims he cannot lie to me, but I wish he would quit being so evasive all the time!”

“Clearly there are things he is not telling you," the spirit agreed. "But perhaps he is not allowed to reveal the entire truth,” she suggested. Naia sat up.

“You think him bound by some unseen force? By-by magic?” The thought of it made one half of her excited. The other half was gripped by terror. There were things beyond her comprehension going on, that was for sure. But that was not necessarily good.

“I think he has his reasons. That is all I am saying.” _That's not good enough_ , she thought

“And you think I should trust him. That I should just blindly trust my captor.” The words came out like an accusation, but they were directed internally just as much as externally. The truth is, she _did_ trust her captor, to an extent. She trusted him not to hurt her and to take care of her needs as best he could. And he did. But those things were not enough, and she knew it. The _only_ way he could ever truly deserve her trust would be to restore her freedom, but she supposed she could settle for being able to communicate with her family.

“Not blindly, no." Comfort's eyes gleamed. "You are a curious girl, Naia. Never stop asking questions."

“And what if he refuses to answer?”

“I didn’t say to ask _him_.”

Right. The Well. The mysterious wealth of knowledge that conveniently made itself available to her most nights. Comfort brushed a stray curl out of Naia's face.

“You still have much to learn, _da’len_. Seek the Well and learn the story of Fen’Harel,” the spirit instructed. “You will find answers there.”

Something in the way Comfort spoke the Dread Wolf's name struck her briefly as odd, as though she were more familiar with the man than she let on.

“What can you tell me about him? The Dread Wolf?” she asked.

“The same as anyone else who has lived this long," Comfort responded casually. "He has made quite the impact on this world. But I am not the best one to tell his tale. Come. Let us find the Well.”

 

* * *

 

Every time the Well showed itself, it appeared differently. Tonight it was standing upright, as would a mirror, its liquid contained by some invisible barrier. Curiosity filled her with the urge to reach out and touch it, but before she could, the image before her warped and changed.

The scene before her was of a bedroom, not unlike her own, but even larger. Sunlight streamed through an enormous stained glass window, casting brilliant colors of light onto the stone floor. In the bed, a man stirred and then sat up, and she realized it was Fen’Harel. She also realized that he was wearing nothing from the waist up. She tried to focus her attention on anything other than the demigod’s bronze-colored flesh and lean muscle. His hair was undone, thick locks falling loosely around broad shoulders. His face looked peaceful as he yawned, and it struck her as strange to see the Dread Wolf do something so very simple and _human_ , though she well knew that’s what he was. She felt as though she should not be seeing him in this private moment, in such a state of undress. Only she was having trouble looking away.

And then a figure stirred beneath the blanket next to him. She blushed further upon the realization of what had clearly happened here the previous night. A woman’s face blinked sleepily at him from underneath the covers. The Dread Wolf leaned over and kissed her cheek, speaking a few soft words. Naia did not need Comfort to translate the simple, intimate phrase: _Go back to sleep, Love._ The figure rolled over, content to obey as he got out of bed.

She was not so naïve as to believe that the woman in the bed was the Dread Wolf’s wife, but she did begin to wonder if he’d ever taken one. Or two, or seven, seeing as he’d lived so many lifetimes by now. He had originally asked for her own hand, after all, before they met. She wondered just who the woman was in the first place. He’d called her _Lath,_  but did he actually love her?

She did not have time to contemplate further as the scene shifted. The Dread Wolf was leaving the room, fully dressed with his hair pulled back. He now sported the skull of some small animal in the center of his forehead, making him look utterly dreadful. He had fully transformed into the terrible Dread Wolf of her childhood stories, and a chill crept across her skin as he strode forward. This is who he was, her Beast. This is who he always had been. But beneath it all, she knew he was still just a man, and despite herself, she thought him strangely attractive.

He stopped in front of a tall mirror like the one she had seen Mythal unveil to the People before. This one, she noticed, had a small stone orb encased within the center of the frame at the top, and she thought it looked familiar, but she could not remember where she’d seen such a thing. Before she could think on it further, the Dread Wolf quietly spoke a few imperceptible words, and the surface of the mirror instantly began to shimmer and glow. Then, curiously, he stepped into the mirror like one would step through a doorway and disappeared.

Naia turned to Comfort for explanation, but the spirit only urged her to continue watching. The mirror had ceased glowing, and the scene shifted again. She saw a different mirror now, seated in the center of a large, busy courtyard. Its surface came to life, glowing like the previous one had, and out stepped Fen’Harel.

“Incredible,” Naia whispered. The mirrors were not a means of seeing the future, but of _travel_. She wanted desperately to learn more of how they worked, but she knew there would be time for that later.

A woman approached Fen’Harel as he was making his way out of the courtyard. Her long hair was braided intricately, falling down to her waist, and on her forehead she bore the mark of Ghilan’nain. She bowed low, and he halted.

“My Lord,” she began, meeting his eyes from below. He motioned for her to rise. She leant close to him then and lowered her voice. “I was hoping you would show up here. I saw you go home with Isenatha last night,” she said, Comfort once again translating the conversation for Naia's comprehension.

Fen’Harel sighed rather loudly, annoyance clearly displayed on his features.

“And?”

The woman leaned in even closer now, her hand lightly brushing the sleeve of his robe. Her finger curled into the fabric as she spoke.

“ _And_ I thought you preferred _my_ company,” she said, pouting. Naia's brows raised as she watched the scene unfold. The woman began to wrap her arms around him then, but he shrugged her off.

Just then, an onlooker approached and grabbed the woman firmly by the forearm, wrenching her away from the Dread Wolf.

“You will prostrate yourself in front of a god, _slave_ ,” he spat as he forced her down to her knees. The girl cried out as her knees hit the paved ground, and Naia took a step back from the Well in shock. Did he say _slave?_

“Let her go,” the Dread Wolf ordered, his voice cool and commanding. The man instantly obeyed, and Fen’Harel stared him down with his icy gaze. “This woman is no one’s property. She bears the mark of Ghilan’nain out of respect as a _servant_. No follower of Ghilan'nain would dare to keep slaves for fear of angering the goddess. But you would know that had you looked at this woman for more than a moment of rash judgment. Instead, you saw nothing but a marked face and assumed without question that it granted you the right to regard her like the dirt beneath your feet.”

 _Oh, good. So she wasn’t a slave,_ was Naia’s first thought. _But then, if Ghilan’nain refused to let her followers own slaves, that must mean the other gods allowed it_ , she realized in an agonizing instant, and she felt ill _._

“F-forgive me, my Lord! I did not think—”

“You are correct about that much,” Fen’Harel laughed humorlessly. He had no patience to let the man finish. “I would have you prostrate yourself before this woman. Show her the respect you demanded she show me, in atonement for your foolish ignorance.” The man’s eyes were wide, as if this were the absolute worst punishment he could have received. Naia's brow furrowed. Beside her, Comfort was grinning.

“He wasn’t just casually disciplining the man for his actions, you see,” the spirit explained. “This particular punishment was meant to publicly humiliate him. To bow to a slave was as scandalous as being exiled.”

“But I thought he said she wasn’t a slave,” Naia managed to say. Her head was spinning, still trying to wrap itself around that last word.

“She bears the vallaslin, like you. Only back then, they were slave markings. Each slave wore the brand of the god that his or her master followed. And though the followers of Ghilan'nain kept servants rather than slaves, most people in Arlathan would not have been able to look past this woman's face. They would view her as the same status as any other slave."

Naia felt dizzy as she stared at the woman’s face. It was like looking into a mirror; she, too, had chosen to respect the goddess Ghilan’nain by bearing her mark. But this was different. Her people had actually enslaved their own kind all those years ago, and today their descendants erroneously wore the markings as a symbol of cultural pride. Every last one of her clansmen was essentially branded a slave, and there was nothing she could do about it. The reality was too much to bear. She gripped Comfort’s arm for support. The spirit’s face grew concerned, and she drew Naia into her arms, gently stroking her back.

“Look, _da’len_ ,” she urged after a moment. Naia did, and saw the man crouched low in front of the woman and several eye witnesses. One of whom was stalking towards them now, long robes floating elegantly behind her. People stepped aside to make way for the newcomer, and Naia saw that it was none other than Mythal.

She stopped beside Fen’Harel and looked down upon the man kneeling before them. Instantly he scrambled to lower himself even further to the ground.

“E-exalted,” he mumbled from his clearly uncomfortable position.

Fen’Harel glanced at the goddess by his side. “One of yours, I take it?”

Mythal nodded, her impossibly intricate hairstyle staying in place as she did. Naia thought it must have been held up by magic alone. There was an echo of a frown on her face as she considered the man at their feet.

“Aelon and his family have been praying at my temple and enjoying my blessings for generations now. It is a shame they will not be able to continue this tradition,” she said calmly. The man’s head shot up at that, a look of terror on his face.

“No, Exalted, please! Don't punish my family, my children!” he pleaded. Mythal looked at the man disapprovingly.

“You, who would treat a woman in such a way simply because you believed her a slave, have no place at my temple. If your family wishes to follow me still, they have two options. The first is to completely disown you as their patriarch, and you will leave your house forthwith,” she stated clearly, eyes glistening.

“No, please, I cannot leave them!” the man interrupted, though Mythal did not seem to mind. For all the terror she inspired in the man who was cowering before her, Naia thought that she seemed reasonable enough.

“…Then your only other choice is to free your slaves. I will not have them being mistreated by a follower of mine. Send them to my servants at the Temple, and they will be taken care of from there.”

“B-but we need them! Forgive me, Exalted, but we have a very large estate, and if we were to lose our slaves we would not be able to upkeep—” Mythal waved a hand in dismissal.

“Then sell your estate or hire some servants. I care not what you do. Just make a choice.”

“Your Worship, please—”

“ _Now_.” The goddess spoke with such finality that no man would dream of disobeying.

“Thank you, Exalted! We will set our slaves free at once, Your Worship!” She nodded, a look of cool victory on her face as she half-smiled to herself. She waved her hand again, obviously done with the man who was still groveling on the ground. He got up, bowed, bowed a second time, and then ran off without another word.

The young woman, who had been watching the scene in awe, bowed to Mythal as well, head lowered. Mythal bid her rise.

“Your Worship is a truly wise and benevolent ruler,” she offered meekly. Mythal smiled at her.

“Thank you, child. You may leave us,” she said, and the woman did. Mythal turned to Fen’Harel. "Walk with me."

As they began to walk the length of the courtyard, the onlookers finally averted their attention and scattered. Mythal idly linked her arm with the other god's arm as one would with an old friend.

“She was a pretty young thing, was she not?” Mythal commented. The Dread Wolf shrugged at this.

“I suppose,” he said indifferently.

“You really should not have led her on, Fen’Harel,” the goddess chided. “We could have avoided that entire scene just now. Although I suppose I should thank you for revealing the true nature of that vermin.”

Fen’Harel scoffed. “As if I can be held responsible for the girl’s foolishness, or that man’s ignorance for that matter.” Naia thought he sounded a bit childish, deflecting the blame.

“The girl was an innocent,” Mythal noted.

“The girl knew exactly what she was getting herself into," he corrected. "I do have a reputation, you know.”

“Ah, yes. The Rebel Wolf. Breaking rules and hearts, forever wild and untamable. But you and I both know there is more to you than that,” she winked. He grimaced.

“Just don’t let word spread around. People will actually expect me to _do_ things.”

Mythal laughed at this, her voice light and musical, but Naia almost could not believe the utter laziness that was practically dripping from the Dread Wolf’s tongue. This crafty, silver-tongued god that was feared by her people was in that moment behaving like a stubborn child in front of the All-Mother, who seemed to find his antics amusing. She wondered if this was a typical day for them.

“Why did you threaten to disown that man if he did not free his slaves?” Fen’Harel asked after a pause. Mythal looked at him appraisingly.

“I might ask why you chose to publicly humiliate him. And don’t say you were bored, because we both know that is not the real reason.” He rolled his eyes at this.

“He was getting on my nerves.”

“And the girl?”

“She was getting on my nerves, too.”

Mythal sent him a glaring look. “That is not what I meant,” she said. “You defended her. Why?” Fen’Harel let out a quiet groan, as if the sudden onslaught of questions were physically draining him.

“You’re _awfully_ persistent today, aren’t you?” he asked.

Her only response was a small, almost _wicked_ half-smile. He sighed.

“Fine. I did it because I despise seeing anyone treated so horribly. Are you satisfied now?”

Her grin widened.

“You know me; I am never satisfied,” she said. “But to answer your original question, it is the same as your answer to mine, my little rebel.” He removed his arm from hers to place both arms behind his back as they continued walking.

“That is why you let your followers own slaves, then?” he asked, a hint of venom in his voice.

“That is why my followers are chosen very carefully. I do not allow just anyone to come into my temple. They must be tried and true and ready to provide for the needs of their slaves just as I provide for them. No slave is mistreated under my watch, and there is proof of this in that no slave has ever tried to run away from any of my followers. You know this.” He sighed in surrender.

“And what will become of Aelon’s slaves?”

“My servants will aid them in beginning new lives as free people. They will be provided for, their status raised to serving class and jobs found for them immediately,” she explained. He shook his head.

“Then you care far more than the others,” he said. Mythal nodded.

“Yes. It is unfortunate that our brethren do not share either of our views on this matter,” she said solemnly.

They walked in silence for a moment.

“You know, Fen’Harel," the goddess began, "I don’t know why you refuse to even hire a few servants. It is one thing to oppose slavery, but you had to go and dismiss all of your servants a couple hundred years ago and enchant that castle to do all of the work in their stead. A tragic waste of magic, in my opinion.”

So that was how the castle had become enchanted.

“I cannot stand being waited on, hand and foot,” Fen’Harel replied in a mildly annoyed tone.

“But you are all alone in that big castle. I do worry about you,” she said with a sincere frown. The Dread Wolf shrugged.

“I have never had a problem finding someone to keep my bed warm,” he said.

“That isn’t what I meant.”

“I know precisely what you meant.”

“Then why not take a wife?” she pried.

“So that I can watch her grow old and die in a couple hundred years’ time? No thank you,” he replied, and Naia realized then the full weight of his loneliness. Despite the company he apparently entertained at night, he had no one to share his immortal life with. And to this day he was all alone still, with only her for company. Exactly _what_ had happened to him to make him this way?

“Come,” Mythal said, "We are expected. It is almost time for the Gathering.”

“Oh, is that today?” he said in feigned indifference. Mythal sighed.

“Really, Fen’Harel, the Gathering is the same day every year, as you very well know. At least pretend to care.” Her stern expression turned to another half-smile, and then a full smile as she tucked a stray lock of his hair back into place.

“What am I going to do with you?” she asked. He chuckled.

“Lock me away in my own castle so I’ll be out of your hair forever?” he suggested. She raised a brow.

“As if that would change anything. I could die and you’d still find a way to annoy me in the Beyond.” He flashed a smile at her in that moment, a genuine smile this time. It made him seem far less intimidating or childish, and Naia thought it beautiful.

The scene faded then, too soon she thought, and the two demigods were now standing inside a large room with another tall, glowing mirror in front of them. This one, like Fen’Harel’s, had an orb encrusted into the top of it. The Dread Wolf stepped aside and motioned for his companion to go ahead of him.

He followed her into the mirror, and they emerged later from another one, stepping out onto a plain, dirt-covered path. Small boulders were inexplicably suspended in the air around them. The sky was a familiar eerie green with no sun, only clouds and a dim light cast over everything below. Naia turned to Comfort.

“Yes,” she confirmed, “That is the Fade.”

“But they are not asleep,” Naia said, truly confused. The spirit nodded patiently.

“No, they are not. Their bodies have physically entered the Fade through an _eluvian—_ the mirror that you saw.”

Naia's eyes widened. “You mean it's possible to physically walk the Fade?" she asked. Comfort nodded, and her mind flooded with questions. "So these eluvians, can anyone use them to enter the Fade at anytime?”

“By the Beyond, no!" the spirit said. "The eluvians were used to travel to other eluvians, and only if one has the password to open the portal to that second eluvian. The eluvian you see in the Fade, however, can only be accessed by one of the Evanuris’ private eluvians. The one they entered just now was Mythal’s.”

Naia thought of the orbs at the top of the two mirrors—Mythal’s and Fen’Harel’s—and suddenly remembered where she had originally seen them. The first time she had looked into the Well, she had seen each of the Evanuris holding a similar object in their hands as they drew upon magic to lengthen their lives, a familiar green glow emanating from them. Had they been gathering magic from the Fade itself? Perhaps the mysterious orbs allowed them direct access to the Beyond, then. She wondered how they had gained such powerful artifacts in the first place.

She watched as the two false gods navigated the winding path ahead of them.

“Where are they going?” she asked, before it occurred to her that the spirit might be just as clueless as she was. But Comfort seemed to know more than she let on.

“The Gathering. It is a yearly convening of the Evanuris in the Fade to discuss politics and make important decisions.”

“They only meet once a year?”

“For one with such a short lifespan as yours, it may as well be once a month,” Comfort explained.

Mythal and Fen’Harel emerged from their path and onto a stone platform, with nine crudely constructed stone chairs forming a circle. Naia thought they looked awfully uncomfortable. Then Mythal waved her hand, and the open sky vanished as the platform became a round room, the ragged stone turning to smooth marble beneath their feet. Green light shone through a small opening in the dome ceiling above them. They each sat down, and before long the rest of the Evanuris appeared as well.

Comfort stopped translating as they spoke, and Naia looked at her curiously.

“I apologize, _da’len_ ,” she said, "but this bores even me. Though not as much as the Dread Wolf, perhaps.” She pointed, and Naia had to laugh. The demigod looked as though he would rather be anywhere else in that moment. He sat sideways in his chair, both legs lifted over the armrest, a hand lightly resting on his forehead. 

The Dread Wolf's seemingly uncaring attitude amazed Naia. He behaved as though he were completely apathetic, yet Mythal had revealed earlier that he did in fact care, after all. He just did not like to show it, Naia guessed. She wondered why he preferred to appear so indifferent.

She also wondered what the Evanuris could possibly be talking about that they needed to gather once a year in the _Fade_ of all places. After a minute of their impossibly monotone chatter, Naia asked Comfort to translate again.

“…and the enchantment around our barriers needs strengthening at _least_ once per decade. Lost shemlen keep catching glimpses of us in the forest. I swear one of these days one of them is going to wander straight into the streets of Arlathan.”

“So? If they see us, they will run home and say that they saw pointy-eared creatures frolicking about in the woods, and no one will believe their crazed tale, except perhaps their children.”

“Yes, but we still cannot risk them ending up here, in our city.”

“Then we’ll just hold them captive here until they die. Shouldn’t take long; shemlen do have _such_ short lives.”

“Andruil, no!”

The Evanuris came to a conclusion with that particular issue, and then began to discuss another, and Naia suddenly undersood why the Dread Wolf was bored. Comfort stopped translating again for a little while, and Naia thought that she had heard enough as well, until Fen’Harel finally broke his silence. All of the others grew quiet.

“He just made a clever retort about Elgar’nan,” Comfort narrated. Naia watched as the All-Father rose from his seat. Mythal’s hand flew out to stop him from advancing on the other god. This seemed to calm him down a bit, and he sat once more. Naia then noticed Mythal glaring daggers at the Dread Wolf. He smirked back at her, but said no more.

The scene shifted ( _finally_ , Naia thought in relief), and the room disappeared, leaving Mythal and Fen’Harel standing alone on the stone platform under the open sky.

“You really should not tempt Elgar’nan’s wrath, you know,” she said, concern evident on her face. He laughed.

“That is what I have you for, my dear Mythal.”

“I may not always be around to hold him back,” she warned. “If you want to stir up trouble, that’s fine. Just find somewhere else to do it, my little rebel. Somewhere useful,” she added with a knowing look.

The scene shifted again and the demigod was now walking alone down a crowded street at night. It was hard not to recognize him immediately, with his rich garments, well-groomed appearance and that ghastly animal skull gracing his forehead. Everyone knew who he was and the crowd instantly parted for him.

That is, until one person got in his way. She stumbled out into his path, nearly knocking the Dread Wolf over and tumbling to the ground in front of him. Her big green eyes widened in recognition, her face covered in Elgar’nan’s vallaslin. She was young, even younger than Naia's sisters, and she appeared to be out of breath, perhaps running from something.

A man caught up to her then and grabbed her by the wrist, deliberately twisting it until she cried out in pain. Naia watched as Fen’Harel observed the scene in front of him. He looked tired, she noted.

“Let me go!” The girl pleaded. Naia watched in anticipation, fully expecting her Beast to come to the girl’s rescue. She was a slave this time, unlike the previous woman, and he had made his didain for slavery clear.

But Fen’Harel did nothing, his face hardening as he walked around the pair and continued on his way. Naia was shocked.

“I don’t understand,” she voiced her concern, “Why doesn’t he help her?” And then, “Help her! Go back and help her! Coward!” As if the Dread Wolf could somehow hear her. The scene shifted again, and Naia blinked back angry tears she hadn’t realized were there. She felt a gentle hand on her back and sighed, forcing herself to continue watching.

Back inside his bedroom, the Dread Wolf sat, this time alone and nursing a bottle of some dark-colored liquor. He drank the last of it and then hurled the empty bottle across the room, hitting the stone wall with a loud smash that made Naia jump. The shattered glass instantly disappeared, and Naia remembered that he was in the enchanted castle, all by himself. And suddenly she wished he’d had someone there to talk to him, to be his friend and confidant. Instead he was all alone and prepared to drink himself to sleep, clearly angered by the day’s events.

“But I don't understand. Why didn’t he help that slave girl?” she asked long after the scene had disappeared. She had been staring at her own reflection in the Well for a good few minutes, hoping for another glimpse.

“I suspect it had something to do with Elgar’nan’s wrath,” Comfort suggested. She thought about that. The girl had been branded with Elgar'nan's vallaslin, and Mythal had warned Fen’Harel not to anger the All-Father. Perhaps that meant not interfering with his followers and their slaves, then. Mythal may have made sure her followers treated their slaves well, but that did not mean the other gods did the same. And clearly it upset the Dread Wolf, but he must have been unable to do much about it. To defy Elgar’nan would surely create conflict between the Evanuris and destroy order within the society they had created.

“But there must have been something he could have done. If not right at that moment, then eventually. _Please_ tell me he found a way to help the slaves.” Even as she said it, Naia realized the obvious. Fen’Harel, the rebel god, was destined to betray the other gods some day. Could that have been the reason why?

Comfort simply smiled.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must must must give another shout-out to my amazing beta-reader veeahknee, who has been an absolute angel. Best beta-reader ever, even if we do tend to disagree on where to place commas! <3
> 
> And thanks to everyone who commented or left kudos! You guys keep me going, seriously. I love you all.  
> See you in 3!


	11. Chapter Ten

****The Well did not show itself to Naia again for the next few nights, and so great was her curiosity that she found herself making excuses to spend more time with her Beast. In the days that followed, she would linger at the dinner table long after she had finished eating or ask him extra questions to lengthen their lesson time. She had learned a great deal about his past already, but her tireless mind needed to know more.

The recent discovery that her people had been a society of slave-owners and slaves still weighed heavily on her heart. She had a myriad of questions for her Beast, but she was unsure how to ask them without alerting him to her nightly escapades. The Fade was the only place she could go where he could not follow, her only legitimate way to leave the castle without actually breaking her father’s oath. She feared that if her Beast knew about the Fade visits, he might find a way to take it away from her somehow, so she kept quiet about that.

Perhaps if she pushed him to talk about the past, however, he would open up to her about the things she’d seen in the Well already. Then they could speak more openly.

“Tell me what you were like when you were younger,” she requested one evening.

His brow rose. “You truly wish to know?” he asked. Naia relaxed in her seat, reaching for her goblet to take a sip of wine. The strong liquid swirled in her mouth, bittersweet to taste but not at all unpleasant. It left a trail of warmth that started on her tongue and pooled in her belly. Liquid courage, her father called it.

“I do,” she said, meeting his crimson eyes.

“I see.” He looked thoughtful. “In my youth, I was far different from what I am now. Hot-blooded, cocky, and much too proud. I think if you had met me then instead of now, you would have truly despised me.”

It was not what she expected him to say. The younger Dread Wolf she had seen in the Well did indeed have a cocky sort of attitude, and perhaps he had proven to be a bit hot-blooded in the way he tested Elgar'nan. But his description failed to match the passionate young rebel she’d come to learn about. The man she’d seen had been secretly but unmistakably compassionate, longing for change in a world he’d helped to build. He was intelligent and powerful, a little childish and yet oddly charming. Nothing so despicable, after all. She took another sip of her wine.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. You must have had some redeeming qualities.”

“You are much too kind to me, _lethallan_ ,” he said, watching her fondly. Naia shifted under his gaze and put her goblet down, deciding that she'd had enough liquid courage for one night.

“The truth is, I was very selfish when I was young. In the beginning I wanted nothing to do with anyone but myself and my close circle of friends. We owned the world, it seemed, and I had no desire to change that. For years I watched injustice happen, and I ignored it. Justice was Mythal’s domain, after all, and thus I deemed it to be her problem and not mine.”

“What changed?” Naia asked, because something clearly had.

“Long ago, the People built temples within which to honor and worship the gods. Families settled around the temple of the god they chose to follow. I, however, was the only god with no temple, and no followers. It was a personal choice, my very first act of rebellion, you might say. I did not think I needed anyone, nor did I want anyone invoking my name in prayer unless it was to instill fear in their enemies. The Dread Wolf was a badge of terror and rebellion, and I wore that badge with pride. But over time, countless elves learned to pray in my name, simply because they had no one else to whom they could turn. I unintentionally became the god of the godless, the outcasts, the poverty-stricken,” he paused, eyeing Naia carefully as he did, “and, inevitably, the god of the slaves.”

She looked down, focusing on her hands in her lap. She was not supposed to know about that yet.

“So there were slaves in Elvhenan,” she said simply.

“Yes. I wish it had not been so, _lethallan_ , but it is the truth. _Ir abelas_.” She looked up at him and he seemed concerned, sorrowful even. Was he worried about how she would take this news? Did he plan on telling her about the vallaslin, as well? She hoped he wouldn't. She was already reminded of the ugly truth every time she looked in the mirror, now.

“I see,” she responded carefully. “And what happened with these slaves?”

“Those who wished to defy their masters would pray to me instead of their household god. And I heard every single prayer. Every time someone whispered my name in the dark, every plea for freedom—I heard it all. Every night, thousands of slaves called my name as though they truly believed I would heed them and come to their aid.”

“And did you?” It came out barely louder than a whisper, the question she had been waiting all this time to be answered.

“At first I did not think it possible. There were so many of them, and I could not help them all, so what was the point in trying? But they kept calling to me, and I could not ignore them forever. So eventually I determined to find a way. It was not easy; I could not draw attention to myself for fear of angering the other gods. I needed to keep up appearances as it were, make them believe I remained indifferent to their misdeeds while I plotted against them in secret.”

“So you _did_ plot against the other gods!” She tried not to sound too excited, but failed horribly. He chuckled at her outburst.

“I did. But as a Dalish, you knew that part already. I assume you disapprove, of course?”

Oh. She was supposed to disapprove, wasn’t she? The Dread Wolf’s rebellion against the other gods was the whole reason she was raised to fear and hate him. But she neither feared nor hated the Beast in front of her now, not even a little bit.

“I….” She averted his gaze. _Creators, just say something_. “I think I’d like to hear the rest of the story and decide for myself.” He nodded, looking at her approvingly.

“Well, then,” he continued with just a hint of a smile, “The first thing I needed to do was avoid getting caught interacting with slaves. Do you remember my infamous specialty? The technique I supposedly used to trick and deceive poor unsuspecting victims?” Naia nodded. Every Dalish knew that.

“You were a master at changing your shape.”

“Correct. Only this time I did not need to make any drastic changes, just something simple enough that I would not be recognized. So I took away the obvious traits: my long hair and dark skin. I even aged my face a bit, just enough to look like a different man. I dressed as a commoner, and with my ragged clothing, pale white skin and no hair to speak of, no one looked twice in my direction. As this wandering stranger, as Solas, I could do as I liked in a way that I never could as Fen’Harel.”

“Solas?” she repeated. He seemed caught off guard upon hearing the name said aloud.

“That was the name given to me at birth,” he explained. “Fen’Harel was simply a title that became my identity in time, and Solas was forgotten. Only I never forgot. And so with this disguise I became Solas once more.”

Solas. She wanted to say the name again, to feel it against her tongue. So this was the true name of her Beast, not some horrendous title he’d been given ages ago. It was a simple Elvhen name, meaning “pride.” Not terribly common amongst her people, but it was still just a name, a reminder that he had been just a man, once.

“And then what happened?” She realized belatedly that she was leaning forward in her seat, chin resting on her knuckles. She’d become so engrossed in the story, so eager to finally learn the truth about her Beast. But as they locked eyes again, something changed. Some unknown resolve came over him, and he shook his head.

“And then,” he continued, “a very curious young woman asked entirely too many questions for one evening. It is getting late, _lethallan_.”

Naia frowned. He was dismissing her already? But they had just gotten to the good part!

“You can’t just stop there,” she protested. He regarded her curiously.

“Are you really so invested in my tale?” he asked.

“What? Of course I am! This is the history of my—of _our_ people,” she corrected herself. He sighed.

“There is a lot more to this story than we have time for in one evening, and most of it would be entirely too complicated to explain. My apologies. I should not have encouraged this. And I fear you would not believe half of what I tell you, especially concerning that shared history of ours.”

“I—” Naia began, and stopped. She _had_ made it abundantly clear to him in the past that she did not trust him, or at least not any of his words. She took a deep breath. “I am willing to hear you out, if you should choose to share this with me.”

They looked at each other for a moment, and she thought then that they understood one another. She could not tell him that she had already seen the truth, but she could openly give him the benefit of the doubt, and he could accept that as a sign of the trust that was blooming between them. She wanted to encourage this trust, this strange friendship of theirs. He was unlike anybody she had ever known, and what had happened in his past was important to her, not just as one of the Elvhen people but as someone who had genuinely come to care about him.

He stepped down from his chair.

“ _Ma serannas_ , _lethallan_ , but I am afraid I am only going to disappoint you," he said as he turned away.

“What?” Naia stood as well. “That’s not good enough! Did you or did you not help the slaves? _Dirth ma, Ghest_!” she demanded. She covered her mouth, realizing she’d just called him “Beast” to his face. But that did not seem to faze him in that moment. He turned back around, meeting her heated gaze with a sorrowful look.

“The answer to that depends largely on one’s perspective. In the end, I do not believe I truly helped anyone at all,” he said sadly. It couldn't be true. She refused to accept it.

“But—” He shook his head.

“ _On nydha, lethallan_ ,” he said, his tone and usage of Elvhen indicating that their conversation was over. She shut her mouth with a frown as she watched her Beast depart.

 

* * *

 

Naia could hardly sleep that night, though she wanted nothing more than to enter the Fade and consult the Well. She spent a good hour continually changing positions in her bed before throwing the covers off of her in frustration and getting up. Outside her window, the moon shone big and round and bright, filling her room with a distracting pale glow. She crossed the room and began to poke at the dying embers in the hearth.

Why did he have to go and do that? Just when she thought she was getting close to finally understanding her Beast, he had to go and shut her out. She sighed as she continued poking at the fireplace, looking for a spark to ignite. When nothing happened, she groaned and gave up, throwing the poker to the floor with a loud _clank_. What sort of lousy enchanted castle was this, anyway?

Naia shook her head and laughed at herself for getting upset over nothing. But her mind refused to be quiet and she was feeling quite frustrated. A silent yawn escaped as she stretched her limbs. Perhaps what she needed was a nice cup of herbal tea and something to relax and distract her. Something like a little late-night reading.

On her way to the kitchen, however, she noticed a faint light coming from one darkened hallway. The hallway was long and round and had but one door, if she recalled correctly. It was a hallway she avoided, because the door was always locked. Still, curiosity got the better of her as she turned and headed towards the light.

As she got closer, the candelabras lighting her way, she saw that the other light was indeed coming from the door, which had been left ajar. She heard voices as she grew near. No, not voices; just one voice, light and sweet like honey…

She peered through the small opening of the door to find a beautiful courtyard, complete with various foliage and a gazebo. The light of the nearly full moon cast a natural, bright glow upon the yard, and in the center stood her Beast, standing opposite the magical halla.

The pair of them made quite the sight, him towering over the halla, both on all fours and staring at each other intently. But the halla did not seem to fear the wolf. In fact, its head was bowed ever so slightly, a sign of trust if Naia remembered the stories right.

She did not wish to disturb them. Though both animals were standing, they seemed content, peaceful even. She felt almost as if she would be interrupting something, though she could not imagine what. She was about to slip away quietly when her Beast grew alert all of a sudden, looking directly at her. Had he been able to _sense_ her presence? Blighted wolf instincts…

He stood stock still for a moment, a look of near alarm on his face, before he nodded at her in acknowledgment. She took that as a cue to come in.

Naia took a few steps, not wanting to draw too close to the halla for fear of scaring it off. Her gaze flittered between both beasts, the atmosphere mildly tense, as if she _had_ interrupted something.

“Having trouble sleeping?” Her Beast offered calmly. She nodded.

“And you?” she returned. He smiled.

“These days I find that I rarely sleep at night.”

“Oh. I didn’t mean to interrupt… whatever it is you are doing,” she said. He looked at the halla, then back at her.

“I was just visiting an old friend. Would you like to come closer?” he beckoned. She took a careful step towards them. She observed the halla carefully. It was gazing back at her, seemingly calm, so she took another small step.

“She won’t bite,” he teased. Naia rolled her eyes at his quip and then returned her gaze to the halla, slowly closing the distance between them. The creature lowered its head before her. Naia reached out and gently pet the top of it.

“She’s beautiful,” she whispered, marveling at the grace of the smaller beast. Her white fur was short but smooth, and it seemed to almost glow beneath the moonlight. When Naia drew her hand away, the halla lowered itself to the ground, settling comfortably at her feet. Her Beast was eyeing them curiously.

“Would you care to guess her name?” he asked after a moment. She stared at him, wide-eyed.

“Her name…? You want me to guess her name?” He nodded.

“If you can. Nobody ever has, but you are certainly free to try.”

She thought about that. Why was the halla’s name a mystery? In fact, she knew nothing about this creature or where she came from, let alone her name. But she supposed if she had to guess…

“Let’s see. If she’s a halla, could her name be Ghilan’nain?” Fen’Harel smiled sadly.

“Alas, it is not. It was a good guess, however. If you ever wish to guess again, be sure to let me know.”  

What a strange thing to say. Why was this poor creature’s name a secret? She looked down at the halla, who was watching her calmly. What was she doing here in the first place? Was she bound to the Dread Wolf as well? Naia looked around at the courtyard, the round wall towering high above them into the night sky.

“Is this where you keep her hidden away?” she asked. He nodded. So the magical halla was a prisoner in this castle, too, locked away forever. Naia looked at the gentle creature and suddenly felt a kinship with it. They were both in the same situation, both trapped. The irony of whose vallaslin Naia bore was not lost on her, either.

“I was beginning to wonder,” she continued, “because I haven’t seen her since the day I arrived. I didn’t know the castle had a courtyard. I thought perhaps you were keeping her in that locked garden outside.” It was the only other locked door on the grounds that she was aware of, so it seemed a logical choice. But her Beast was looking at her strangely.

“Now that you know about this place, you may come and visit whenever you like. I will keep the door unlocked. But you must promise to stay away from that garden.” His commanding tone sent shivers down her spine. Had she said something wrong? It wasn’t as if she were planning on breaking into the locked garden, but he seemed adamant that she never step foot in there. Why? What was he hiding?

“I promise,” she said, and she meant it. He had given her no reason to distrust him so far.

“Do not be mistaken,” he went on, “I do not keep her locked away to prevent her from escaping. Rather, the door is locked to prevent others from entering. She would never run away, you see. She remains here of her own volition, where she can be safe from the outside world.”

 _Oh_. It explained why the halla was so calm around the wolf. And yet it only added to the mystery of it all. She had more questions, but after her Beast had shut her out earlier this evening, she was afraid to pry too hard again. Here in this moment, under the starlit sky, she felt strangely serene. She did not want that feeling to go away just yet. She stooped down to pet the halla, scratching gently beneath the ears. The creature hummed in contentment.

“I’m sorry for calling you _Ghest,_ ” she said after a minute of silence.

“There is no need to apologize. It is, after all, what I am. It would be wise not to forget that, I think.”

“But you are so much more than that! You’re—” She stopped herself. _My Beast_ is what she had been about to say. She did not know what that meant, what any of it meant. Their relationship had altered considerably since their first meeting. Then, he had simply been the Beast, her captor and sworn enemy. Whatever he was to her now, he was _her_ Beast. That was all she knew for certain.

“Forgive me,” she continued, suddenly feeling that she was intruding again. “I should give you two your privacy,” she said, eyeing the halla. He moved to a sitting position.

“You may stay if you wish. I would not mind the extra company.”

“I’d like that,” she returned, and took a seat on the ground next to the nameless halla.

They sat quietly for a while, neither willing to break the silence with pointless chatter. She wanted to remain that way for as long as possible, two souls existing underneath the same sky. For a moment, she could pretend they were not within the confining walls of the castle. She could look up at the moon, so big and yet so far away, and know that it was the same moon that shone on her family’s farm, or the forests where her people made their dwelling. And she was comforted to know that the next time she closed her eyes to dream, she would go “home.” Even though it wasn’t real, it was the next best thing. She almost wished she could bring her Beast with her—to the Fade or to her actual home, she was not sure.

She was even less sure as to why she’d suddenly felt that way. She could admit that she was simply glad to have met him, though she wished it had been under different circumstances. What would have happened if her father had not stolen the embrium, for instance? He’d still promised the Dread Wolf a bride. The punishment for the theft had been to never see his daughter again. Would she have been allowed to leave the castle if there hadn’t been a theft? Or had the Dread Wolf been meaning to keep her captive all along?

Something in the back of her mind told her that there was more at work here. Maybe her desire to take the Dread Wolf away with her came from the fact that she had never actually seen him leave the castle. She’d wondered about it before, but now she was beginning to see the truth of it. There was magic involved here—she already knew that. Could magic be preventing him from leaving this place, too? It was entirely possible. Could they both be captives?

She watched the two beasts sit peacefully, one black as the sky, the other stark white. She had assumed that she and the halla were alike, trapped here while the Dread Wolf roamed freely. But in reality the halla was probably the only one of the three of them who actually could come and go as she pleased. Only she chose not to, and Naia couldn’t help but wonder why.

She had so many questions, but was afraid of driving her Beast further away. Already she was able to get him to open up about so much today, only to end up with him shutting her out once more. Only he wasn’t shutting her out, not really. Whatever had happened in his past clearly upset him. And somehow it led him here, to this very moment: a lonely beast living in an empty castle, possibly unable to leave, unable to lie, but unwilling to tell the truth, and unwilling to let her go. Unwilling, or unable. If magic was truly binding him here against his will, could she be bound by some of that magic as well? Or was that merely wishful thinking on her part, a need to justify her growing trust for her captor? Was she really just deluding herself?

No; she was being sensible. Anything was possible, she reminded herself, and she was determined to discover the truth, no matter what.

She let out a yawn, her tireless mind finally growing tired.

“Are you comfortable here, _lethallan_?” he asked.

“Hmm?” she responded sleepily.

“You said you could not sleep. Are your accommodations not to your liking? If there is anything you require, you need only tell me.”

“Oh. Thank you, everything is wonderful, really. Although I suppose I am still getting used to sleeping under a roof, even after years of living in a farmhouse,” she confessed.

“You prefer sleeping in a tent?” he inquired.

“I prefer sleeping under the stars, when the weather is nice,” she admitted with a laugh. Typical Dalish.

“Oh.”

She yawned again, loudly.

“It is late. Perhaps you should go and get some sleep,” her Beast suggested, his warm, honey-like voice already lulling her. She nodded, and for the second time that night, he sent her off to bed, though this time she was not feeling frustrated. She got up to leave, but his voice stopped her when she reached the door.

“Will you meet me here tomorrow night, before you retire for bed?”

Perhaps it was the sleepiness that had overtaken her, or the serene atmosphere of the moonlit courtyard in that moment, but she nodded in agreement without stopping to wonder or ask what he had planned. And then, without really thinking, she bade him good night in their native tongue.

“ _On nydha, Ara Ghest.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's not the weekend but I finished editing early, so here you go! Thanks again to all who left kudos and/or comments.  
> I think we're about halfway through the story at this point, though I can't say for sure. I'm going to say we're at LEAST halfway by now.
> 
> Translations:
> 
> on nydha - good night  
> dirth ma- tell me  
> ara ghest - my beast


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not quite the weekend yet, but it's been about 3 weeks so here you go!  
> Naia and her Beast go on a date. Just kidding. Or am I?

“Ouch!”

A tiny spot of blood began to pool at the tip of Naia’s finger as she dropped the needle she’d been holding. Evidently her sewing skills were not as advanced as she’d thought. She could cook and she could clean, but needles and thread would forever be a challenge to her.

Naia stuck her finger in her mouth to slow the bleeding and bent down to pick up the needle from where it had landed underneath the loom. At some point during the weaving process, she’d managed to create a rather noticeable hole in the middle of her tapestry, and she’d hoped to mend it by sewing it together. Weaving was not one of her skills, either, but ever since last night, she was more determined than ever to finish her secret project. She’d spent the entire morning working on it.

Last night had been… different. She hadn’t felt so comfortable and serene since before she’d arrived at the castle. The living situation might not be ideal, but now, after over a month, it was finally starting to feel like home. Almost. There was still the matter of her family, and whether or not she could contact them. She had told her Beast to take his time and think about it, but she was still eager for him to make up his mind.

When she finished the patch job, she took a step back to admire her work thus far. The image of the halla’s face she’d woven was now no longer split in two. It was not the most lifelike depiction, but it was the best she could do with her limited artistic ability. The halla stared back at her, and though it looked nothing like the halla she’d seen last night, she thought she’d still managed to capture the nature of the creature quite well. It was gentle and frail, but its eyes seemed intensely intelligent somehow, and she was proud of that accomplishment. Everything was coming along quite nicely, and she couldn’t help but grin.

 

* * *

 

That evening, as per her Beast’s request, Naia prepared to meet him in the courtyard again. He had reminded her of the request at dinner, and advised her to "dress comfortably.” For her, that meant bare feet and a simple chemise and shawl.

He was waiting for her in the gazebo. Naia stopped by the halla along the way, who lowered its head for her. It made a contented sound as Naia scratched her underneath the jaw.

“Was there something you wanted to show me, _lethallin_?” she asked as she approached the gazebo. She could not dream of why he had asked her to meet him at this time of night.

“Yes, there is. Thank you for coming. If you will, please follow me.”

They exited the courtyard together, leaving behind the pale light of the now-full moon for the fiery light of the candelabras. Their shadows danced alongside them as she followed the wolf through the castle halls. They walked for a long time, climbing several more flights of stairs than Naia recalled ever seeing. The last set of stairs was a tall spiral, so they must have been in one of the towers. The tallest tower, most likely, if her aching legs were any indication.

At the top of the staircase was a door. She watched as her Beast expertly maneuvered the handle open with his nose. Until now, she hadn't fully realized just how much of a struggle it was to be trapped in a form without hands or fingers.

The door led outside to a long stretch of flat rooftop surrounded by a parapet. The full moon was big and bright, illuminating the area, and she saw that there were a few cushions and a blanket laid out in front of them. Naia froze.

“What is all this?” she asked.

“You said you missed sleeping under the stars. In an attempt to cure your homesickness, I set up an optional place for you to sleep without a roof over your head. There is a lovely view here. I come here often for fresh air and to clear my mind, but if you wish to make it your personal space from now on, I shall not bother you.”

“That’s... that’s very nice of you,” she responded, suddenly feeling ungrateful. She glanced out over the parapet. The view _was_ rather lovely. “You don’t need to give up your favorite spot for me, though.”

“I do not need to, but I would like to, nonetheless,” he said. She smiled at him.

“Why don’t we make it _our_ spot? From now on, we’ll share it.” He returned her smile.

“That is… an agreeable arrangement.”

“Good. Then I think I’ll sleep up here, tonight,” she declared. It did look cozy, after all.

“As you wish. I will take my leave, then.” He began to turn away, but she stalled him with a hand on his back leg.

“You don’t need to leave so soon. You may keep me company for a bit, if you’d like. I’m not tired yet.” He looked down at her, considering her words. Last night had been so peaceful, sitting silently beside each other beneath the stars. She wanted to recreate that feeling, and more than that, she did not want her Beast to be alone. Or perhaps she did not want to be alone herself.

Naia repositioned her shawl to cover more of her body as she sat down on one of the cushions. The Dread Wolf wordlessly took a seat beside her, not too close for comfort but still within arm’s reach. She drew her knees up to her chest and looked out through one of the dips in the parapet. Bathed in moonlight, she could see the whole horizon from up here: the castle grounds, the banners with the menacing wolf to ward off unwanted visitors, the lake surrounding their island fortress, and beyond that, endless trees—and snow! It had been only the start of December when she’d arrived, so there hadn’t been any snow on the ground at the time, but it must be the middle of winter by now.

“Why doesn’t it ever snow here?” she wondered aloud.

“These grounds were enchanted a very long time ago, so that no one need tend to them," he explained. "The island is therefore immune to the change in seasons. Rain will water the gardens to help them grow, but they are safe from snow and winter’s chill. This way, there is no need for a gardener. That is why the flowers are eternally in bloom.”

“They’re beautiful flowers,” Naia commented. “But it doesn’t seem right, for them to always be in bloom like that. Everything must have its season. Flowers need to wilt, and winter needs to come so that spring can follow and bring back vitality to the land. It is the cycle of life. Tell me, _ara ghest_ ,” she continued, casually using the nickname she’d given him last night, “have you ever seen a goat give birth?”

“…I confess I have not,” he admitted with a bemused expression.

“Well, it’s disgusting. It’s disgusting, and at the same time it is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen, because on our farm it means spring is here, and the cycle of life has begun anew. So you see, everything has to come to an end in order to make room for new life to begin.” She ended her sudden, impassioned speech and silence fell around them.

“I should not be alive,” he said after a moment. He'd taken the wrong meaning from her words, she thought.

“I wasn’t referring to you,” she began, but he shook his head.

“It is true. All things must die, and yet I continue to exist in this place that is forever trapped in spring, while the rest of the world continues turning.”

“It’s not your fault you’re immortal.” She realized as she said it that it was not entirely true. She had seen for herself the very moment he'd used his magic and wit to claim immortality, along with the rest of the Evanuris.

“Yes, it is entirely my fault. I am the one who discovered how to draw on the power of the Fade to substantially lengthen our lives… among other things,” he lamented. “It was not my idea, but I am most certainly to blame.”

“Not your idea… then whose was it?” she asked. She tried to think back to the scene she’d witnessed on her very first trip to the Well, all that time ago. She seemed to recall her spirit friend telling her something about this.

“Who else? The All-Father and All-Mother, of course,” he replied, carefully pronouncing each title with disdain. “They were the ones who desired the power. In truth, we all did, but it was Mythal and Elgar’nan, in the end, who managed to convince me to share my research. I was the one who discovered the godlike power we could attain if the nine of us were to pool our knowledge and magic together. Now I wonder if that was a mistake,” he said sourly.

“What makes you say that?” she asked. He sighed.

“Power, immortality, godhood… these things were not ours to take. We may have created a great and prosperous civilization, but at what cost? Elvhenan crumbled and fell in the end, just like all the great civilizations in ancient history. I do not believe it was inevitable, however. If only I could go back and do everything differently….” Was he saying that he _regretted_ creating Elvhenan? She shook her head.

“But you can’t go back,” she countered. “Maybe the fall of Elvhenan really _was_ inevitable. Who knows? We can only move forward, not backward, _ara ghest_.”

“Perhaps you are right,” he said distantly.

“Anyway, I take back what I said about the garden,” she offered, changing the subject again.

“Do you, now?”

“Yes.” She grinned. “I rather like being able to go outside during winter and enjoy the fresh air and flowers. I think it’s lovely.” She sat up straight as an idea popped into her head. “In fact, do you think it would be possible to grow anything else in the gardens besides flowers? I already noticed a few wild herbs here and there. Oh! Maybe fruit? Vegetables, too!” The Dread Wolf cocked his head to the side in wonder at her sudden excitement.

“You wish to start a vegetable garden?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I just realized that if your garden is in bloom year round, wouldn’t that mean that fruits and vegetables would always be in season, no matter what? The Dalish may know how to live off the land year-round, but there are so many shemlen living in poverty and starving in this country, especially during the winter. Imagine if we could grow food for them!”

“That is… a very noble idea, _lethallan_ ,” he conceded, amused. “But where will you get the seeds?”

“From the produce that always magically appears on the dining table.”

“Hmm. And once you grow more, how do you expect to get all of this food to the poor, I wonder?”

“Oh. I hadn’t thought that far ahead.” He chuckled jovially.

“I must say, I admire your innovative spirit,” he confessed. “You are always thinking of others, aren’t you?” he asked, looking at her fondly. She shifted, subconsciously drawing her shawl tighter around her body. It was not the first time someone had pointed that out to her. That it needed to be said at all was strange, in her opinion. She shrugged her shoulders.

“Someone ought to."

They sat silently for a while as she lamented the failure of her brief but well-meaning plan.

“So then, is there really no way to send anything across that lake? Not even perhaps a letter?” she asked after a minute.

“Ah. I have not forgotten about your request,” he reassured her.

“Have you thought about it, then?” she asked hopefully. He nodded.

“There is a reason I am hesitant to answer, but I think now you might understand if I tell you. You see, the only way across that lake is with the halla. She can go anywhere, no matter the distance, in only a matter of seconds. She is able to carry up to two people, and she can certainly carry a small package or letter. Unfortunately, as you may have surmised, she cannot carry great, heavy beasts. Therefore I am confined to this island as well, at least until….” He stopped, his face contorting suddenly. Then the moment passed, and he composed himself once again.

“Are you alright?” she asked, her voice filled with concern. She had never known her Beast to be at a loss for words before, when she came to think of it.

“Forgive me. There are… certain things that I cannot divulge, however much I wish I could.”

“What do you mean?” If he wanted to tell her something, why couldn’t he just say it? It appeared as though there were something physically, or magically, stopping him, but why?

“It is beyond my control, regrettably. That is all that I am permitted to say.” He looked saddened by this, but it only annoyed her. She was not annoyed with _him_ , of course, but at whatever—or whomever—it was that seemed to have a hold on him. She reached out and laid a hand on his front paw in consolation.

“Whatever it is…. Whatever is going on here, I need to know. So if you can’t tell me, then… then I’ll just have to go and figure it out for myself,” she said. Her words made him grin.

“That is why I like you, Naia. You are endlessly curious. It makes me want to believe in you.”

“ _Want_ to believe?” she repeated. Even her Beast had doubts, then. He shook his head.

“That is, before you came along I had begun to give up hope. But you seem to have renewed a small fragment of the faith I once possessed,” he said softly.

She shifted, as if sitting beneath an invisible weight she hadn’t realized was there before now. Why put his faith in her at all? Wasn't there anyone else who could solve this puzzle? Being trapped in this enchanted castle, in this monstrous form…. Whatever was going on, it had something to do with that—she just knew it. She wanted to help, wanted to uncover the mystery, but what if she couldn't? And what exactly was at stake here? She couldn’t fathom having such a burden lying entirely on her shoulders alone.

And yet there was something that her Beast did not know, her secret weapon: the Well. With that, surely she would be able to solve the mystery of this strange, enchanted castle she now called home. In fact, she was certain of it! Her Beast just needed someone to reassure him. She gave his paw a gentle squeeze before letting go.

“Whatever it is that troubles you, _ara ghest_ … I promise I’ll do my best to help where I can. Even if you can’t tell me everything, you still have my word, alright? So please don’t worry.” And perhaps that was exactly what the Dread Wolf needed to hear right in that moment, because he visibly relaxed.

“ _Ma serannas, lethallan_. Now, let us speak of something else. I do not wish to ruin your evening with such a dreadful subject. I believe we were discussing writing a letter?”

“Mm, yes we were,” she responded, grateful for the change in subject. “I think I see why you don’t want me to send one. It might put the halla in danger, right?”

“That is correct, for the most part. I only send her away on absolutely essential tasks for that reason. She is… very near and dear to me, and if someone were to get their hands on her, that would be very dangerous, indeed. She is far more powerful than she appears,” he explained.

Naia thought about that. If what he was saying was true, then perhaps there was cause to be concerned. Perhaps she should simply trust in his judgement.

“Then I won’t use her,” she said. He seemed surprised by her response.

“You are content with that?”

“If it is as dangerous as you say it is, then yes.” Already she was beginning to regret her words, but she took a deep breath and swallowed her doubt. “Besides, I made my decision the moment I mounted her all those weeks ago. I knew what I was getting myself into, what I was forfeiting upon coming here. I’ve already made peace with the fact that I can never see nor contact my family again.” It was true, but it did not make it any easier. She wanted to cry and protest, anything to fight her terrible luck and dreadful destiny. Instead she wore a brave face while her Beast met her gaze with sorrow in his eyes.

“ _Ir abelas_. Please know that I… If I could… I would not have….” He stopped again, looking flustered and uncomfortable, like earlier. Naia exhaled slowly, patiently.

“Forget it. I know you meant no harm,” she admitted. “I do not know why you did what you did, but I don’t believe your intentions were to cause pain to me and my family, so for now….” She sighed. “Let’s just not bring it up again, shall we?” It was not an extension of forgiveness, but it was something. To him, it might have been everything.

“ _Ma serannas_. You continue to surprise me, _lethallan_.” He turned his face away for a moment, and his ears perked up suddenly. He turned back to her. “You might be unable to contact your family, but there may be a way for you to see them, after all.” Her eyes widened a bit.

“What? How?” she inquired. He regarded her carefully.

“If I asked you to place your trust in me, Naia, would you do it?”

The question barely registered in her mind. The truth was, she already had. She did trust her Beast, and that scared her, but she couldn’t let him know that.

“What is this about?” she asked.

“There is something that I would like to show you,” he explained.

“What is it?”

“That is why I require your trust. In order to for me to show you, you will need to be asleep.”

“I…” she began, and then paused. What could he possibly mean to show her in her sleep? Unless… He couldn’t be talking of the Fade, could he? But how? If he knew about the Fade, wouldn’t she have seen him there before? Wouldn’t their minds have crossed paths at some point in their sleep? Although she _had_ discovered last night that he did not tend to sleep at nighttime. Still, why couldn’t he have warned her about the Fade before her first night here? The castle itself seemed to allow her access to that place of spirits and memories long gone, and as it was _his_ castle, he must have known about it. Did he know of the Well, also? She hoped not. She wanted so much for that to be her little secret, for the whole of the Fade to be hers alone. Surely he was referring to something else, then.

“Alright,” she acquiesced with a firm nod. “I will trust you. But I am still not going to sleep anytime soon. At least let me lie down and look at the stars for a while,” she said with a grin.

“Yes, of course. That is why I brought you up here, after all,” he said, returning her grin. She settled down on the ground with her back against the cushions, facing the open sky. Her Beast remained in his spot, seated on his hind legs.

“You know, you can see the sky a lot better from this position,” she remarked. He hesitated, watching her thoughtfully.

“I suppose that is correct. I do not often lie on my back, however.” She pursed her lips. Could it be that she was making him uncomfortable? She supposed if he were in human form it would not be so odd. She’d only seen dogs lie on their backs when they were completely at ease, in front of people they trusted. Did that translate to ancient elven gods trapped in wolf form?

“Alright, but you are missing out on a great view.” He studied her for a moment, and then slowly lowered his body to the ground, lying on his front. She laughed.

“That’s halfway there,” she teased. “Come on, it’s beautiful! Oh, look! I can see Dirthamen and Falon’din from here!” He looked at her incredulously.

“You named the constellations after us?” he said in a disbelieving tone.

“You didn’t know that?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. “Although really, we just stole them from the shems and then added our own names. The twins, also called Gemini, can be seen in mid-winter. I read that in a book somewhere,” she informed him.

“ _Fascinating_ ,” he said dryly. She ignored him and continued to scope out the different clusters of stars, when she heard a shuffling noise next to her. To her disbelief, the Dread Wolf had rolled onto his back, exposing his belly. It was a bizarre sight, to say the least. A tiny part of her wanted to reach out and rub his belly like she would a dog, but she perished the absurd thought as soon as she had it. She looked back up at the sky before he could catch her staring.

“There’s Taurus,” she pointed up at one constellation. “We don’t really have a Dalish-y name for that one—just ‘The Bull.’ Can you see the two horns there?”

“Yes, I see them,” he confirmed.

“And that one over there is Sylaise, and, oh, there’s... there’s you, I suppose. The Dread Wolf.”

“Which one?”

“You see that one, really bright star? The shemlen call that the dog star. It’s the brightest one in the whole sky. And the stars surrounding it are sort of shaped like a great dog. Or a wolf,” she explained.

“Wonderful,” he said humorlessly. “I am a dog.”

“Well, you don’t exactly look like a bull,” she said jokingly. She glanced over at him, and he really did look like a great big dog, lying on his back with his paws in the air. He must have realized this, as he suddenly turned over to lie on his side, instead.

She dropped the subject and they continued to lie like that for a little while longer. She felt her mind begin to drift in and out of sleep as her eyelids grew heavy.

“Tell me about your family,” her Beast asked suddenly. She blinked the sleep out of her eyes and looked at him.

“My family? What do you want to know?”

“What are their names? What are they like? I already know that you care deeply for them, but what else can you tell me?”

She hadn’t realized that he’d never even learned the names of her family, though he knew plenty about them from what her father had told him.

“Well, there’s my father, whom you’ve met. My sisters are much younger than me; Enasta is eighteen, and Nehna is only seventeen. They are infatuated with anything that is currently fashionable in the shemlen world and tend to be a bit materialistic, but I would not have them any other way.” Her eyes threatened to water as she spoke about her loved ones, but she was still rather tired and far too stubborn to tear up now. “Laleal is fourteen—no, fifteen!” she corrected, realizing with dismay that she'd missed her baby brother's birthday. “He is a bright young man, ever curious like me and caring, too, and full of endless, childlike hope. And he always knows just what to say to cheer me up.” Rather than crying, she found herself smiling. _If Lal were here, he’d want me to be smiling_ , she thought.

“They sound like a wonderful family,” he remarked.

“Yes; I feel very blessed to have had them in my life.”

“You should,” he said, looking pensive. “I do not remember my family.”

“What? Really?” She was surprised, but he only laughed.

“I forget how young you are, sometimes. For me, it was a hundred lifetimes ago. I can no longer recall the sound of my mother’s voice, nor my father’s face. They sent me away from home at a very young age, and I never saw them again.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said, suddenly feeling the true depths of her Beast’s loneliness. That he had no memory of a loving family, in addition to centuries and centuries of being alone, made her sad.

“It is I who should be sorry. I took you away from your family, _lethallan_. That is unforgivable,” he said gravely.

“We already talked about this, remember? You don’t have to apologize again,” she reminded him, moving on. “And anyway, if I hadn’t come here, if my father never came across your castle… I am not sure where my family would be right now,” she added. It was something she hadn’t admitted until now, really. Meeting the Dread Wolf had been a curse, but in a way it had also been a blessing. “My father told you of our plights, did he not?”

“He mentioned something about losing your home. I know that you lived on a farm, so I assume that is what he meant,” he said. She nodded.

“That is part of it. My family lived on that farm because we were banished from our clan seven years ago. My father... he did something wrong, and because of it we were asked to leave. Luckily, we had a distant relative who owned some farmland and let us live and work there, and eventually we were able to start a small farm of our own. It was great for a while, until we almost lost everything in a terrible storm. After that, my father returned to our clan to petition our Keeper to let us come back. But there was a new Keeper, a bitter young man named Anverelan who felt that I had scorned him many years ago. He refused to let us return unless I agreed to marry him. Knowing I would never do such a thing, my Father left believing we would never be welcome there again. He was on his way back home when he had his accident and your halla found him.”

The Dread Wolf was very quiet, listening intently to her story. When she finished, he looked at her strangely.

“So you were faced with the opportunity to either marry your Keeper or marry the infamous Dread Wolf, and you chose _me_?”

“I… It wasn’t like you gave me a choice in the matter! I couldn’t very well let you marry one of my sisters!” she replied, getting a bit flustered. _Unbelievable,_ she thought. “And besides, Keeper Anverelan is a despicable man, with no concern for my family’s wellbeing nor the traditions of our clan. In a way, you offered us a way out. You saved us from losing our farm, in the end. I very well may have married Anverelan otherwise, come to think of it.” She shuddered at the thought.

“Then, I am glad for that,” he confessed, and she felt her face flush a bit more.

“Anyway, I suppose I should say thank you,” she admitted timidly.

“There is no need, I assure you,” he replied. “You still have not told me about your father and mother,” he said after a moment.

“Hmm. My father is a very kind, gentle soul. Though he’s made some mistakes in his past, he can be very wise at times. And when he loves someone or something, he loves it with all of his heart. I think that’s why his heart was so badly broken when Mother died. He didn’t take it very well at all.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” he offered.

“Thank you,” she said with a ghost of a smile. She loved her mother very much, and talking about her now did not hurt as much as it did years ago. “My mother was a wonderful woman, intelligent and brave and beautiful. I only wish I could have known her now that I am an adult, rather than a needy, ungrateful child.”

“I am sure she would be very proud of who you’ve become,” he reassured her. She smiled at that.

“I hope so. I hope she is smiling down at me from the Beyond… or wherever she is.” There was another mystery for her. Naia had walked the Fade in her dreams, and she believed in the afterlife and the Beyond, but were the two places synonymous? What had actually become of her mother’s soul?

“All souls must cross over to the Beyond after death. I assure you, your Mother is at peace now,” the Dread Wolf consoled her, as if having heard her unspoken questions. She couldn’t be sure what he was saying was true, but she wanted more than anything to believe it, so she did.

“ _Ma serannas_.”

They grew quiet again, their last topic of conversation happily lulling Naia’s mind into a peaceful state. She thought about her mother as she drifted off, picturing her smiling face, and braced herself for the familiar gentle pull of her consciousness into the Fade.

This time the pull felt different—stronger, in fact, as if someone were right next to her, holding her hand and guiding her. She let it carry her carefully across to the spiritual realm of her dreams, and prepared to see her mother’s face again.

But her spirit companion was not there, this time. This time, Naia was standing alone in a clearing in the woods. She could not remember a time when she had entered the Fade without Comfort being there to greet her, now that she thought about it. It was almost as if she were completely dependent on the spirit to guide her.

Before she had time to grow concerned, Naia’s eyes fell on a figure in the clearing, several meters away from her. Another spirit, perhaps? No, it was a man. She swallowed thickly as she realized he was watching her. He began to stride towards her casually, hands behind his back. He was dressed in simple, humble attire, and his head was completely bald. And, as he grew closer, she realized his ears were pointed.

He stopped a few feet away from her and grinned.

“ _Savhalla, lethallan_.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, over 100 kudos! I am truly flattered, you guys. I’ll admit sometimes I get tempted to be lazy, especially when I have a million other things I could be doing, but I push myself to write because I know there are readers waiting to see what happens next! So really, thank you very much.  
> That being said, I just started a new, full-time job so while I will continue to do my best to get updates to you on time, I hope that you will bear with me if things take a little longer than usual. I don't think it should be a problem, but just in case that happens, I apologize in advance.
> 
> See you in 3 weeks, Maker willing!


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naia stares at Solas a lot. It's the head- it's just so shiny!

  

_Savhalla, lethallan._

Naia swallowed nervously. This elven man who had appeared out of nowhere was now approaching her and addressing her as a familiar. Yet there _was_ something familiar about him: his sharp facial features, piercing but kind eyes and rich but gentle voice....

Then it hit her: this man was someone she'd never seen before, someone she'd only heard about in a story her Beast once told her. This man was _Solas_.

And then, because she could not think of anything else to say, she simply exclaimed "It's you."

The man in front of her grinned, eyes lighting up and face brightening as one's face does when one smiles, and _gods_ the way his eyes crinkled slightly when he did so! She could see every feature of his face clearly in front of her—the face of a man and not of a giant beast. She shook her head in disbelief as a small smile crept across her face.

"You are not nearly as surprised as I presumed you might be," he admitted. Right. She should probably have acted surprised, but she was so amazed that he was here with her, in the Fade, that she could hardly care.

"Aren't I?" she replied coyly. She stepped toward him, nearly reaching out a hand as if to touch him. As if to make sure he was real. Except he wasn't. This was merely an illusion, she reminded herself.

He did not respond, only studied her face for a moment, and she looked away, feigning sudden interest in their surroundings.

"In case you are wondering where we are, _lethallan_ , we have entered into the realm of your dreams," he explained.

" _My_ dreams?" she responded. Was he not dreaming as well?

"Yes. Every person on this planet dreams, and every dream exists within a place called the Fade. That is where we are now. I, however, possess the unique ability to consciously enter the Fade at will. As a _dreamer_ , I can also transport others into the Fade with me. I simply reached into your mind, in your dreaming state, and led your consciousness forward."

 _Fascinating_. But if her Beast was the one that had brought her here, how then had she been able to come here every night before this? Could she be one of these "dreamers" as well? She couldn't make sense of it.

Solas watched her, patiently awaiting her reaction. Naia merely nodded at him and took this moment to walk around, taking in her surroundings as if for the first time and buying time to think.

She wondered where Comfort was. It was odd that this was the first time she'd entered the Fade without her spirit friend here to greet her upon arrival. And what of Solas' claims? Had he really been the one to pull her into the Fade tonight? Entering the Fade _had_ always felt like someone gently tugging on her mind, come to think of it. So then she could not have been entering the Fade simply because she willed it so. She required someone to take her there. Could it be possible for someone on the _other_ side of the Fade to bring her here, then? Could it actually have been Comfort who had summoned her consciousness all these nights?

If that were so, then she needed to find her friend. She needed to know why she'd been brought here repeatedly by a spirit of comfort. Creators knew she'd needed some comforting in her life after leaving her family behind, but there had to be more to it than that.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Solas came into view again. He'd stepped in front of her path, hands behind his back and looking expectant.

"Have I lost you, _lethallan_?" he asked.

"What?"

"I expected you to have questions. Might I inquire as to what you are thinking?"

His brow furrowed slightly with worry when she did not answer right away. She could see it in his eyes, could see so much now that she could not see before. Those silver eyes that lit up when he smiled at her now showed concern for her, too. Naia wanted to apologize for making him worry, and for keeping the truth from him. She bit her lip.

"I... Why did you bring me here?" she asked. He looked thoughtful as he began to walk past her, beckoning her to follow. She did, and felt for a moment as though the ground beneath her feet were shifting, changing somehow while the air grew thinner with each breath she took. She kept her eyes on the back of his bare head until he turned to face her.

"There is something that I believe you must see. Although," he said with a knowing look, "that can wait awhile. We’ve no reason to rush. Now that we are here, I would like to show you..." he trailed off, looking around and gesturing at their surroundings, "everything."

Naia followed his gaze and realized they were no longer in a clearing in the wood. Instead, they were swallowed by a sea of sky and clouds, standing atop a mountainous terrain. Her breath hitched in her throat as she looked out over the precipice, her gaze falling on what appeared to be an endlessly vast city. Beneath them, crystal towers spiraled high, winding their way above treetops and parting the clouds. It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

"This is my favorite view of it," Solas said. She reluctantly tore her gaze away from the shimmering city.

"Of what?" she asked. He grinned.

"Arlathan."

The ancient Elvhen city looked completely different from this vantage point compared to the street view she'd seen in the Well, and she understood what he meant. From here, she could truly appreciate the beauty of it, and she was nearly at a loss for words.

"It's _breathtaking_ ," she managed. She looked back at him and found his gaze intently fixed on her, rather than the city.

"I am pleased you think so."

His gaze returned to the sight below them, and she became aware rather suddenly of just how close they were standing. As a wolf, he had always given her a wide berth, which was considerate of him. He was a very large beast, and probably quite heavy, capable of knocking her over if he wasn't watching where he was going. Now he stood at the same height as her, much smaller in the form of a man, his appearance much less intimidating. So why did she feel intimidated at present?

Pushing those feelings aside, she took a moment to study the features of the man next to her. He looked similar and yet so different from the man she'd seen in the Well. In addition to being much paler, his face was a little bit older, and his hair was entirely gone, leaving his head shiny and bald. It almost reminded her of her father, who had begun to lose the hair on the front of his head, to his dismay. Yet it was different for Solas. It made him look... distinguished, she supposed. Mature, certainly. It was not a bad look, but perhaps one that would take some getting used to.

From up close, she could see the sharp curve of his cheekbone, following the line directly to the tip of his pointed ear. She marvelled at the shape of it, this unique trait of the Elvhen people that set them apart from the race of men. A physical trait that, like magic and longevity, was now lost to them, for some reason yet unknown to her. She continued to study his face, noting the slightly pink hue of his ear compared to the rest of his pale white skin. He was so much lighter in complexion compared to her, as if he had never seen the sun. She wished that she could change that, imagining for a moment a real Solas and not this Fade illusion, whom she could drag outside of that dim old castle and into the sunlight for some quality fresh air.

He caught her staring, and she quickly returned her gaze to the city, face heated in embarrassment, but not before she'd noticed his eyes. From this close, she could see that they were indeed grey, like she'd previously observed, but they also contained the faintest hint of blue. It reminded her of a sky towards the end of a storm, dark and clouded and desperately trying to become clear again.

"What shall I show you next?" he mused, stepping back into her line of sight. His eyes were alight with mischief now and for a moment it reminded her of his younger, rebellious self. He took a few steps back, until he was standing at the edge of the precipice. Naia's eyes widened when she realized that he meant to take another step.

"Wait—" she began to call out, but it was too late. He was past the edge now, and to her relief he was still standing, a floating piece of rock now supporting him. Relief was quickly replaced by dread when she realized she'd reached out to grab a hold of him. She had one foot on the edge of the cliff, the other settled onto the floating rock beside him, and her hands were clutching the front of his tunic. If her face had blanched earlier, then it most certainly had regained its color now.

Naia glanced down to see nothing but sky between her and the rocks below. In her mind she knew it was not real, but her nerves told her otherwise. She quickly brought her other leg onto the floating rock for fear of slipping. When she still hadn't let go of his tunic, paralyzed by nerves, Solas gently took her arms in his hands and lowered them for her. He looked apologetic.

"Did I frighten you? Forgive me, that was perhaps ill-advised of me,” he confessed. “I simply intended to demonstrate that one cannot always trust that which we see within the Fade." His words did not do much to comfort her, but her nerves were calmed a bit by the sound of his honeyed voice and the solid warmth of his hands against her forearms where he still had not let go. When he did, she took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly, calming herself further and shaking her head as she regained her bearings. She remained unmoving, however, even though she knew she had no reason to be afraid. Even though they were standing mere inches apart. Because this wasn’t real, none of it was. He lowered his voice to barely a whisper. " _Hamin. Ame eth._ "

Those words seemed to penetrate through any uncertainty. She looked into his eyes and everything else seemed to fade away. She felt safe here with her Beast. Yet at the same time, she was more frightened than ever. Of what, she could not say.

" _Ara ghest_...." She whispered the nickname she'd given him, but it felt strange to call him that now, when he was no longer a beast. "... _Solas_." She let the sound of his true name hang in the air as she tried to find the words she wanted to say.

He smiled faintly at her and turned around. "Come," he beckoned, waving his hand. At his gesture, another rock appeared next to the one on which they were standing. He began to walk forward, and more rocks surfaced at his command, forming a path for them. Brushing any confusing feelings aside, she followed him eagerly, curious as ever.

"How are you doing that?" she asked as she carefully navigated her way onto each newly formed rock. "Is it magic?"

"Put simply, yes," he answered. "As a dreamer, I am able to manipulate the Fade, shape it to my will—a talent that has always come naturally to me. But then, I have always been particularly skilled in the art of illusions." As he spoke, he gestured with his hands once more, and the sky grew suddenly dark. She stopped in her tracks as grass began to spring up from between her toes, spiraling from where she stood and covering the ground around them. There was a lake nearby, its surface glistening beneath a full moon that hung low in the sky. Crickets chirped softly as a gentle breeze blew, caressing her softly with cool air.

 _That’s one handy little trick,_ she thought. Comfort had used a similar trick to bring her memories of the Dalish camp to life. It was an ability that was beginning to make her envious.

"Where are we now?" she asked, admiring the peaceful new atmosphere.

"Nowhere of importance," he dismissed. "Merely a memory of a place I often visited in my youth."

“It’s incredible,” she remarked. “It feels so real. I can hardly believe we’re in the Fade right now.”

“You speak as though you are familiar with the Fade,” he noted with interest.

 _Oh, fenedhis_.

Naia didn't have the heart to look him in the eyes.

"That... that may be because this isn't _quite_ my first trip to the Fade," she confessed sheepishly.

There was a heavy pause, and she glanced up at him. He looked pensive, but otherwise stoic. She only hoped he was not upset.

"Solas... I'm sorry. I should have told you right away. Please don't be angry with me." He seemed almost surprised by her words.

"Believe me, _lethallan_ , anger is the last emotion which I am currently experiencing. I must admit I am somewhat perplexed, though. To consciously enter the Fade is no simple matter. I did not believe it possible for anyone other than myself at present. And although the connection to the Fade is stronger in my castle, you cannot have stumbled upon the Fade by mere accident, not without some form of outside help...." he trailed off thoughtfully.

"Perhaps you've underestimated me, then," she remarked playfully. The corner of his mouth turned upward.

"That I cannot deny." He was looking at her with a sort of admiration in his eyes that reminded her for a moment of the way he'd looked at Mythal all those years ago. She shifted a little, and he broke his gaze, clearing his throat. "I do not, however, believe that to be the sole explanation," he continued as if there had been no digression. "Tell me, did you encounter anyone during your previous venture here?"

She hesitated, and knew then that she had no choice but to come clean. Perhaps Solas would be able to shed some light on things. He seemed to know a great deal about the Fade, after all.

"Yes. There was someone, when I first arrived. A spirit who took the form of my mother and called itself Comfort. I think... I think maybe she brought me here, actually."

The Dread Wolf's face was a mask of stoicism again as he contemplated her words.

"I see. And what did this spirit want with you?" he asked, his voice equally unreadable as his face.

"I'm not sure, entirely. I suppose I... well, she offered me comfort at a time when I needed it.”

His face fell a bit at that. "Of course." He turned away, focusing on something in the distance that she could not see.

"Is something wrong?" she asked. He briefly pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger before turning back to face her.

"It is nothing. But you should know that the Fade can be a dangerous place if one does not know what one is doing. Remember what I told you: you cannot trust your own eyes. The spirits that roam here may not always be benign. They cannot harm you physically, but they can deceive and trick you if you do not exercise caution." Naia's eyes widened a bit. In all her visits to the Fade, she had encountered no danger or threats of which she was aware. That was not to say that she hadn't considered it a possibility, but she'd always assumed that she could wake up at any given time and was therefore never in any true danger.

Solas' expression lightened when he saw her concern. "Fortunately, you are with me. So long as you do not wander off, you have nothing to worry about," he added, his voice filled with confidence. Naia blinked. Was he... offering to protect her? Creators, what a strange thought. No, not strange—ironic, that the one she'd spent her life trying to protect her people from was now offering her protection. Still, if what he said about the Fade was true, she'd gladly take any help she could get. However, she absolutely refused to be helpless. If he knew things that she did not, things that gave him an advantage in this place, then she would just have to make him tell her everything he knew.

"You know what you're doing, then? In the Fade, I mean. You know how to navigate this place, how to avoid danger?" she asked. He grinned.

"That is correct. I recently spent a great deal of time in the Fade, discovering secrets and speaking with spirits like the one whom you encountered. Sometimes I feel more familiar here than I do within the walls of my castle," he admitted.

"Really? How much time did you spend here, exactly?" she wondered aloud.

"That depends," he replied. "What year is it?"

Naia's brow furrowed. Why was he asking her that? Didn't he know what year it was? Although, she supposed after being alive for so long he did not need to keep a calendar, especially when he spent all of his time holed up in a castle. She was not sure herself what the precise date was, though she figured she was about a month or so into the new year.

"Let's see. Right now it is the year of the shems' lord, eighteen hundred and sixteen," she stated, throwing in a quip about the shemlen in good humor. He did not share that humor.

"Nearly a century, then," he said quietly.

"Hm? What's nearly a century?" she asked without a thought. The Dread Wolf shook his head sadly. Then it clicked, what he was saying. But that meant.... "You spent a century in the Fade," she proclaimed. "You... you were actually _asleep_ for an entire _century_?"

"Yes," he said simply, his voice betraying no emotion. "It was your father's arrival, in fact, that awakened me from my slumber." She shook her head, trying to make sense of it, and of his indifference to the situation. As fascinating as the Fade was, she was sure she'd rather die than sleep away a hundred years.

"But... how? And why?"

"I am afraid those are only more questions to which I cannot provide an answer, _lethallan_ ," he offered apologetically. She knew this game too well. She had once again uncovered too much information, reaching a dead end. There would be no use trying to push ahead here.

"Then... what _can_ you tell me?" she asked determinedly. "About the Fade, that is. I want to know everything you know!" she declared, quite seriously. He chuckled softly.

"I always admire your enthusiasm for learning," he admitted. So he did admire her, then? Her cheeks reddened slightly.

"Yes, well, tell that to everyone else in my clan. They thought me strange for having my nose stuck in a book at all times," she lamented, "Said I shouldn't spend all my time hiding such a pretty face."

"They were right about that much. I do not imagine spending _all_ of your time hiding your pretty face behind a book would be advisable," he jested, "It would make for very difficult conversations. But certainly _some_ of the time could not hurt." What was he doing? He was making a joke, Naia told herself. He'd simply made a harmless little joke, during which he'd happened to call her pretty. Her face flushed further upon that realization. _What am I doing?_ She laughed nervously and then cleared her throat.

"So," she started, eager to change the subject, "What more can you tell me about the Beyond?" He raised his brows.

"The Beyond?"

"Yes. Is... is that not where we are?” she asked, suddenly realizing that despite her many trips to the Fade, she still knew hardly anything about this place. “When I came here before, without you, I thought for certain that's where I was. Are the Fade and the Beyond not the same place?"

"No, they are not,” he responded. “I can understand the confusion, however. The Dalish believe in a place called the Beyond, where the souls of the People go after death. You, in turn, imagine a place such as this; a realm of infinite possibility would make for a fine afterlife. But you would be wrong. The Fade is not the Beyond. Rather, the Beyond is a place that exists _within_  the Fade." Her eyes widened. So it was real. The Beyond was real, and it was here, somewhere.

"Really? Then, where is it? Can we go there?” He shook his head sadly.

"It is a place no living soul can go. Not unless you wish never to return. Even spirits do not venture there. But you can see it from any point in the Fade, as long as you know what you are looking for. It appears only to those who are dead or those who already know what it looks like," he explained. He leaned in toward her slightly, lowering his voice. "Shall I describe it to you?"

She met his mirthful gaze with her own curious one, nodding. He began pacing casually, with his hands behind his back.

"Picture the Fade in its raw form,” he began slowly, his voice gently carrying each word as if they were fragile, “the parts in between dreams and visions where the ground is unsteady and the sky is forever shrouded in a fog of dim green light, littered with boulders that hang in the air without logic or reason." She closed her eyes and did as he bid her. "Now imagine one such boulder suspended in midair, the size of a considerable island. No matter where you go, it is always there, looming in the distance, casting a great shadow below. Atop this boulder is a massive city with great, twisting spires and towers, both magnificent and terrifying and entirely devoid of light. That is the Black City."

Naia opened her eyes, and found that the scene her Beast had crafter earlier was now replaced with the raw Fade he had just described. She'd seen it before, only this time she did not fail to notice the giant, hulking black spires twisting atop an island floating off in the distance. She shuddered. So _that_ was the Beyond.

"Why is it so... dark?" she wondered aloud. He was right about it being terrifying. Is this what the dead had to look forward to upon entering the afterlife?

"I do not know. They say the souls of the dead see a brilliant, golden city instead," he remarked, “but I have yet to meet one of the recently deceased long enough to ask. They do not spend much time in the Fade before they must cross over to the Beyond and enter the City for all eternity.”

"Oh." Is that what had happened to her mother? Had Deshanna passed through the Fade as well, on her way to the Beyond? She hoped they had gone there, imagining for a moment a bright and shining city awaiting them instead of the threatening, blackened gates.

“Earlier, you told me my mother’s soul is at peace in the Beyond. Do you really believe that?” she asked hopefully.

“I believe that if your mother crossed over to the Beyond upon arriving here, then she is without a doubt in a much more peaceful place,” he said as he began walking forward, slowly. She followed.

“ _If_ she crossed over… but where else could she have gone?”

“Some souls stubbornly refuse to cross over upon their arrival in the Fade. It does not occur often, but it has been known to happen. They believe they can live here, like the spirits do, but they are wrong. Those souls that do not cross over grow corrupt, twisted beyond recognition. They become demons, in time,” he explained gravely. He saw the look on her face as she pictured her mother turning into some sort of terrible demon, and his expression softened. “From what you have told me about your mother, I am certain you have nothing to worry about, _lethallan_. She is at peace.”

She wanted to believe him, but now that she’d actually seen the Black City with her own eyes, it was hard to think of that place as peaceful.

“What makes you so certain the Beyond is actually a better place?” she asked, her voice soft and full of disbelief.

“I only meant that it _must_ be, in comparison to everywhere else. The Fade is unpredictable and chaotic in nature, and the world we live in is full of terrible people with evil intentions, or foolish people prone to reckless mistakes. I much prefer the Fade, if you ask me, but I postulate that the Beyond is far more preferable to either. And although I cannot say for certain, I believe that it may actually be the opposite of the Fade in nature, a place of serenity and eternal rest.”

“I hope you’re right,” she commented. He _had_ to be right. Solas had spent an entire century studying the Fade. If there was anyone she could trust on that subject, it was him. She let that thought soothe her mind, for now.

As they walked, they passed a thin, spiraling boulder that reached high into the emerald sky. Large chunks of glowing blue rock jutted out here and there from beneath its surface, their faint light pulsing on and off. Naia thought she could hear it _humming._ She slowed to a halt in front of it.

“What is that?” she asked.

“That is lyrium. It is a substance, magical in nature, that grows organically all throughout the Fade. You might even say the Fade is made up of it, beneath the surface and all around us,” he said. She remembered the tiny blue crystals that her Keeper had kept locked away from the rest of their clan, only to be used in a sacred Dalish ritual. She remembered it clearly, because as a First she’d had access to it herself, and it had caused nothing but trouble when her distraught father had gotten his hands on the stuff. She knew that lyrium had magical properties, causing intense visions or hallucinations. Once a year, each Dalish Keeper participated in a ritual in which they ingested enough lyrium in order to go into a trance or deep sleep. Naia had seen it before, though she’d never experienced it firsthand. She’d watched over Deshanna while she went under its influence, and when she awoke, she would tell her people of the visions she’d seen, and interpreted what that meant for their clan in the coming year. Taken in smaller doses, she imagined it did not have the same effect, but it was no less addictive and therefore dangerous.

She understood why, now. Lyrium originated from the Fade, and the Fade, as Solas had explained, was naturally chaotic. Looking at it now, raw and organic and right in front of her—it was _powerful_. It pulsated, thrumming with life. Back home, she’d learned that only her people could see and mine this mysterious mineral they’d discovered deep within mountainous caverns. Some claimed it even called to them. Was it calling to her now?

“I’ve seen lyrium before. My clan kept it locked away, of course. We knew it was magical,” she told him. “But the last time I caught a glimpse of it, it didn’t look so… _alive_.”

“Everything looks different in the Fade,” he explained. “Even lyrium.” She nodded, unable to take her eyes off of the glowing blue rock as it began to steadily pulse in sync with her own heartbeat, thrumming softly in her ears and under her skin.

“If lyrium comes from the Fade, how are we able to mine it in our world?” she asked.

“That is because once upon a time, it was possible to physically walk the Fade. Though the two worlds do not coexist, they were once easy to travel between, if a person had the right tools. Then one day, one such person decided to carry something back with them from the Fade into the physical world. That is where the lyrium of your world comes from. But like the Fade, it is unpredictable and potentially dangerous. Your people are right to keep it under lock and key.”

She thought of how lyrium had almost destroyed her family, and suddenly felt sick as the humming called ever more loudly to her.

“Let’s keep moving,” she said, tearing her gaze away. “Er, where are we going, exactly?”

“That is a good question. I am looking for something, the very reason I brought you here to begin with. It is not always easy to find, however,” he stated as they continued their trek across the raw Fade. He stopped, his eye catching something off in the distance. “Ah, there it is. This way.” He gestured towards the direction he’d been looking, and Naia followed him deeper into the Fade. It was without a doubt the longest amount of time she had spent in this place, and she was beginning to grow weary, if she was being honest. Still, she supposed she ought to go and find out what was so important for her to see.

They came across a rather large tree that appeared to be growing upside down, its roots planted firmly to yet another floating boulder. Its branches were long and reached the ground, and wedged between two of them was a small, vertical pool of water that held her reflection.

Solas had taken her to the Well.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took some more liberties with the lore here, all for the sake of making my AU work for future plot reasons. But I tried to stay as close to canon as possible, even had to do a lot of Fade research that I totally did not know just from playing the games. I feel like Solas now, a total Fade nerd X'D  
> Also, in case it isn't clear, there is no veil in this AU. I didn't really know much about that when I first started writing this story, as I hadn't gotten to Trespasser yet at that time. But the Fade *is* held back, sort of by itself. So when Solas says "the connection to the Fade is stronger here," it is basically like saying "the veil is weak here." Anyway, all will be explained, in time. I just hope I'm not boring you with all those Fade details.
> 
> translations:  
> Hamin- relax  
> Ame eth- you are safe


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Naia froze.

It had been easy to come to terms with having her Beast here, in what she’d previously thought to be her own secret place. She’d enjoyed it, even. But now they were at the Well, the very place Naia had been coming to, well, to spy on him. It was here that she had caught glimpses of his life before the fall of Arlathan, witnessed a young rebel’s rise to power and godhood. She’d seen his silver-tongued, quick-witted personality as well as a softer, compassionate side. She’d witnessed his desire for justice for his people and the stirring in his heart to make a change. She’d even cheered him on in her own heart, patiently awaiting the conclusion to a story that had ended centuries ago.

She might have to wait a long time for that. She knew now that she needed to be accompanied to the Fade. It was not a place where she could come and go as she pleased. Comfort was potentially untrustworthy, not to mention missing, and she couldn’t very well spy on Solas’ past with him around.

“Here we are,” he began, gesturing at the glowing pool in front of them. “This is the Well of Knowledge, the reason I brought you here.”

Naia shifted, keeping her eyes on the sight before her. “It is beautiful.” Her reflection in the mirror looked less than convinced of that, but Solas did not seem to notice.

“It is indeed, as much as it is powerful. For it holds secrets of the past and of the present, information which in the wrong hands could very well be dangerous,” he explained. “Fortunately, the Well’s creator placed safeguards in order to protect against such things. It only appears where and when it pleases. You might even say it is alive.”

“The Well’s creator?” In all this time, Naia had never considered that somebody had _created_ the Well. She’d assumed that, like the Fade, it simply existed since the beginning of time.

“Yes. One who, long ago, wished to spy on the waking world from the Fade. They created a mirror, a window to the other side.”

Fascinated even more than before, Naia stepped closer.

“Be cautious, _lethallan_ ,” Solas warned. “You may look, but be careful that you do not touch.” She stopped in her tracks.

“And what happens if I touch it?” she asked.

“The creator of the Well imbued its contents with great power. If one were to partake of its waters, they would be omniscient, and thus a force to be reckoned with, but at a terrible cost.” Naia’s eyes widened. “It is said that one who drinks of the Well will gain all of its power but lose themselves in the process. I fear that even the slightest touch may have consequences from which even I will not be able to protect you.”

Naia frowned. Had she been in danger all this time, coming here with Comfort? If even touching the waters of the Well could pose a threat to her safety, why wouldn’t her friend have told her? Perhaps it wasn’t as dangerous as Solas insisted. Or, as much as she hated to consider the possibility, perhaps her “friend” was not so friendly after all. What if the spirit was in fact one of the malevolent beings Solas had described, just waiting for the right moment to catch Naia off guard?

Solas watched as her features grew concerned and offered a reassuring smile. “You need not worry about such things; you are safe at present. Simply turn your gaze to the mirror, and you may catch a glimpse of that which you desire to see. Your family, for instance.”

“My family?” Of course. That was why he had brought her here. It hadn’t occurred to her that she might be able to watch them from the Well, because she had been so concerned with unlocking the secrets of the past. But Solas said that the Well held secrets of the past _and present_. Perhaps she could see what was happening this very instant!

Naia’s heart yearned to see her family more than anything in the world right now. She approached the Well, careful not to step too close.

“Please,” she found herself whispering to the mirror as though she were telling it a secret, “Oh, _please_ let me see them.”

The surface of the water grew brighter for a moment and then softer, shades of green and brown twisting and growing dark before going completely black. Naia’s face fell as she watched helplessly, unable to see anything at all. Solas said she could see them. No, he said she _might_ see them. What if something had happened to her family? What if there was nothing to see?

Before panic could set in, a faint grey light broke through the blackness, spreading across the water and illuminating the scene. She could make out the sky through the window of what looked like her father’s and brother’s room, the first light of day creeping through the clouds. Morning. Of course it was morning! How could she be so stupid?

She could see Laleal now, rousing from his rest, waking and shaking the sleep off of him as he stood and stretched his limbs. He was rising before the sun, just like every morning on the farm. She watched as her little brother eagerly pulled on his boots one at a time and then leant over her father’s sleeping form.

“ _Iovro’bae_ , time to get up!” He called softly as he shook his father’s arm. It felt like forever since she’d last heard the sound of her brother’s voice. If she wasn’t imagining things, it even sounded a little deeper than last time. He really was growing up without her.

“Mmm, alright. Alright, I’m up,” came her father’s husky voice. The sound of it crashed over her like a wave, flooding her with a bittersweetness that made her smile.

She watched as her father and brother began their day, pulling on their overcoats and heading outside to trudge through a thin layer of freshly fallen snow. In the dim morning light reflecting off of the frozen white ground, everything looked brand new. The damage from the storm had been fully repaired, and the farmhouse was even freshly painted. Naia turned to Solas, who was watching from a few paces behind her.

“This is our farm,” she told him. “It’s not very big, but it would be nonexistent if you hadn’t given my family the money to repair it. Thank you.” He gave a small nod.

“I am glad to see some of my actions have aided your family, at least," he said. She nodded and turned back to the Well.

The scene shifted to reveal another bedroom. Here, Nehna was sleeping soundly with her limbs splayed out across the bed, one leg resting comically across her older sister’s torso. Enasta did not seem bothered as she was fast asleep, snoring rather loudly and clutching the jewel of the necklace adorning her exposed neck, the one the Dread Wolf had gifted to her. The sight was so ridiculous and _familiar_ that Naia began to laugh uncontrollably, her eyes tearing up.

“Are you quite alright, _lethallan_?” Solas had never seen her like this before, completely uninhibited, but she had no desire to hold back at the moment.

“Yes,” Naia answered after a moment, wiping her eyes. “I… I’ve just missed them so much. Seeing this made me happy, because this is how everything should be, and I know that my sisters are alright. Even though I am not there, they are clearly having no trouble sleeping at night. They haven’t a care in the world, and that makes me happy because… because I don’t want them to worry about me. They have no reason to worry. Because I’m fine.”

“I am certain your sisters worry about you when they are awake,” Solas offered.

“Yes, I know. But… they will get over it. I know my sisters, and I don’t believe they need me anymore. They just need… they need to grow up. And perhaps without me there, they will finally have no choice but to grow up a little faster. I can’t explain it, but I just suddenly had this feeling of relief. They are going to be just fine. Everything will go back to normal in no time.” Aside from her absence, she reminded herself.

Naia shook her head, ignoring her conscience for once. “You see, In the past I had no plans to ever leave my family, not even to marry into another family, or to travel the world like I dreamed!” she declared passionately. “I never could leave them, because I worried about them too much. But now I know that I don’t have to. And even if there is a way for me to go home in the future, I don’t think that I would be able to stay with them for long, because now that I’ve tasted a bit of what it is like to be on my own, I want more. _Creators_ , I can’t help but want more.”

She halted, suddenly remembering herself. “Am I being terribly selfish?” she wondered aloud. Was she reading too much into the situation? Assuming that her family was doing alright without any solid proof, simply to make herself feel better about the fact that she was doing just fine without them? Because she _was_. She was actually beginning to enjoy her new life of mystery and magic and intrigue. It was not what she expected to find in life, but it was the adventure she’d always secretly wished for.

Solas was watching her patiently.

“From what I have gathered about you, _lethallan_ ,” he began slowly, “I have a hard time believing that you have ever once been selfish in your entire life. There is nothing wrong with having desires that may benefit only yourself,” he added, stepping closer to her. His honeyed voice took on a more suggestive tone. “For someone like you to act on those desires, I imagine that the sight would be… fascinating.”

“I…That is,” Naia began, completely at a loss for words. She hastily turned back towards the mirror. The scene had disappeared, replaced by her slightly reddened reflection. “ _Ma serannas_ ,” she said quietly after composing herself. “For taking me here, Solas. Thank you for this.” She turned to him with a smile on her face.

“Whenever you wish to return to the Fade and check on your family, you need only to ask,” he replied, matching her smile. Right. She needed to ask to be taken to the Fade now, didn’t she? In the past, Comfort had brought her here automatically, almost every night. She’d grown so accustomed to the Fade that she’d started to take it for granted. But she had Solas now, to bring her here and to be her guide.

“So you promise to take me here _only_ when I wish to see my family?” she asked in a joking tone, though she was quite serious. She did not want her nightly adventures to end any time soon.

“If you asked it, I would grant you anything that is within my power,” he said, and Naia believed he honestly meant that.

“That is very kind of you,” she replied.

His eyes shifted then, focusing on something behind her and then narrowing. Very calmly, and without averting his gaze, he said “Tell me, did your mother bear the vallaslin of Mythal?”

Naia’s brow furrowed. “My mother? Yes, she did. Why?”

He simply nodded in the direction he was looking, and she turned around to see Comfort there, standing off in the distance and watching them quietly. It felt strange to see her friend again, this time not knowing what to expect of the spirit. Comfort strode forward, her usual comforting smile replaced with a half grin. She moved towards Naia, but her eyes never left Solas.

“ _Savhalla_ ,” she greeted warmly. Solas bowed his head in response, his stance remaining casual, though he seemed slightly more guarded than before. Grey eyes watched the spirit with a look that was oddly both curious and knowing, like seeing an old acquaintance for the first time in many years.

Comfort sauntered over to Naia’s side, wrapping an arm around the young woman’s waist as though there were nothing amiss, as though she were asserting a possessiveness over her. Solas seemed to sense Naia’s sudden discomfort.

“Indulge me, spirit. What precisely is it that you seek to gain from your companionship with this girl?” he asked. Comfort smiled sadly, letting go of Naia only to place a hand on her cheek lovingly.

“This lonely _da’len_ needed a mother,” she answered, turning back towards him. “Know that whatever I plan to gain in return will not interfere with your own plans for her, Dread Wolf.”

Naia stepped away from the spirit’s touch. “What plans? There are plans?” She was looking accusingly at the spirit, although truthfully the question was directed at both of them. Comfort’s hand dropped to her side, brow furrowing.

“ _Da’halla_ ,” she began.

“Stop. Who—what are you? Some sort of demon, using my mind as its plaything?”

“She is no demon; I assure you,” Solas stepped in. Naia shot him a concerned look, but nodded.

“Then what?” she asked.

“A different manner of beast entirely,” Comfort—or whoever she was—answered. “I tried to prepare you, _da’len_ , though I fear you are not ready to learn the truth just yet. Just know that I am not your enemy, and that all will be revealed in time.” Her smile widened, reaching her eyes this time as she whispered, “I have faith in you,” and then began to dematerialize.

“Don’t you dare,” Naia started, feeling anger boil inside her at the thought of having been deceived by this strange spirit. “I already have a difficult enough time with that Beast being cryptic as it is. Explain yourself!” she shouted uselessly at the quickly fading form, but all that remained was a ghost of smiling eyes that glimmered yellow before disappearing entirely. Frustrated, Naia turned to Solas. “What just happened?”

“I am not certain I can answer that at this time,” he responded with regret. Naia sighed.

“That’s alright. I just feel so….” Betrayed? Tricked? That was supposed to be her friend, and the true trickster should be the man in front of her. “Confused,” she finished, taking a step back. “And tired. I—” she stopped abruptly as the ground seemed to disappear beneath her feet. She’d lost her footing and was quickly falling backward.

This time it was Solas who reached for her. It all happened so fast. Naia found herself blinking up at the handsome bald man whose arms were now around her. She would have reacted, only her mind was now slipping in and out of consciousness. She could feel his arms, her body, and the ground growing less and less solid every second.

“My apologies, _lethallan_. I have kept you here too long. Your mind needs rest,” he told her. Naia tried to speak, to assure him that she did not mind in the slightest, but no words came out. He smiled softly and said, “Go to sleep,” and then everything went dark.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry for the late update, you guys. Things have been super busy with this new schedule of mine, but I think I am finally finding the right time to get my writing done, so hopefully the next chapter will be up within 3 weeks' time. Thank you all for sticking with me. I love you guys.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

She slept the entire morning away, rising lazily with the afternoon sun. Her Beast was long gone by then, but she’d never minded waking in solitude. Brushing a few wild locks of hair away from her face, Naia hummed contentedly and then stretched her limbs, basking in the refreshing renewal of a blessedly perfect night’s sleep.

The confusing emotions of her journey through the Fade with Solas and the revelations that came with it quickly faded from her mind like the memories of a dream, but she would never forget that night. It was one she hoped to recreate very soon.

Naia returned to her bedroom and dressed hastily, eager to not let the remainder of the day get away from her. Her gown for the day was embroidered with bright orange flowers on the wrists and hem of her skirt. She tied her dark curls back, kept in place with a yellow scarf made of fine silk, and shoes were forgone entirely.

She arrived fairly early for her lesson and found her Beast lounging on the carpet, his nose quite literally in a book, attempting with some difficulty to turn the page. When that did not work, he huffed a small breath through his nostrils instead, and the page lifted gently into the air, only to fall back down to the same position. Naia let out a small laugh at the sight, alerting him to her presence. He straightened.

“Ah. I was not expecting you so soon, _lethallan_ ,” he said, then, switching entirely to Elvhen, “ _Eager to learn today, are we_?”

“ _I could say the same about you_ ,” she responded in Elvhen as she closed the distance between them, stealing a glance at the book he was reading. He grinned.

“ _Your Elvhen is improving nicely_ ,” he commented.

“Don’t change the subject, _ara ghest_ ,” she chided, taking a seat right on the ground next to him. She nudged him gently with her shoulder. “ _What are you reading_?”

“Due to the nature of my... condition, I am inclined to answer with _nothing_ ,” he responded. “But to better answer your question: just something to pass the time. I have so much of it on my hands-- _paws_ ,” he corrected.

“Ah. I suppose you do, don’t you?” She picked up the book and thumbed through its pages idly. It was a rather lengthy endeavor, not suitable for merely passing time, in her opinion, though she was always up for a challenge. _Le Champion_ was even shorter than this heavy monstrosity. “Your first mistake is your choice of reading material. Too long, and the subject matter?” She read aloud from the cover, “ _The history of the world?_ It’s a schoolbook. And an outdated one at that. Probably full of inaccuracies.” She frowned at the yellowing pages. “Don’t tell me this is how you’ve been keeping up with current events in the world. You know, since you’ve been stuck here with no one to keep you informed for Creators know how long.”

“I can assure you that I am capable of staying informed just fine with the aid of the Well of Knowledge. But I thank you for the concern, _lethallan_.” His eyes were smiling now, all six of them, and it made her smile, too. It was funny how just a few months ago, she found those eyes to be almost disconcerting. They were alien to her, big and red and intense, but now she was able to look into them and somehow see kindness and patience. She regarded him thoughtfully for a minute. “If you’d like, I can read to you. We have some time before our lesson, still.”

“I would like that very much.”

They settled on reading _Le Champion_ , naturally, since Naia had promised already to read it to him one day. It was easily her favorite book, and she wanted very much to share her love for it with someone. She read slowly, careful to let each sentence sink in, every once in a while stealing glances of her Beast in an attempt to spy his reactions. His expression was once again stoic, but he did not ask her to stop reading, and so she kept going until her throat began to grow dry and she needed a break. When she finally looked up at the grandfather clock across the room, it was nearly four in the afternoon. They had completely skipped over their lesson.

“Shall we continue this another time?” he asked as she closed the book.

“What about our lesson? I didn’t mean for us to miss it, honestly, I just didn’t realize the time. Sorry,” she offered. He smiled.

“There is no need to apologize. Had I wished to prioritize your lesson, I would have stopped you. You have been doing so well lately; I thought you could use a break.”

Naia hadn’t even considered the possibility of taking a break from learning. She had made it her mission; it gave her a goal to work towards. Without that purpose, why was she even here? She considered that for a moment.

In truth, her Beast had done so much for her, not only to meet her needs and make her feel comfortable, but to sate her curiosity and desire to learn. Doing something for him in return, even something as small as reading to him, felt nice. And allowing herself to enjoy this much-needed break was certainly an added side benefit.

“Thank you,” she responded simply.

When she finished her supper later that evening, Naia lingered at the table. She wanted to ask her Beast to take her to the Fade again that night, but she was hesitant. Would she appear too eager? She was used to entering the Fade nearly every night, when that not-quite-a-spirit whom she’d since named “False Comfort” was around. Surely she could not expect her Beast to similarly accommodate her curiosities every single night. What if he grew tired of it and chose not to take her anymore? He was her only way into the Fade now. She had no desire to take that risk, so instead she wished him a good night and departed.

She readied for bed at the usual hour, but her mind and body were restless. Considering she’d thrown her sleep schedule off last night by a few hours, that hardly came as a surprise to her. Overcome with boredom, she found herself wandering the halls after dark in her chemise and shawl, feet bare against the cold stone floor.

She ended up in the courtyard and found the halla there, sitting tranquilly and bathed in moonlight. Though it could have been her imagination, Naia thought the creature seemed to light up somehow upon noticing her. She walked toward it slowly, and it stood to meet her. She held out her hand and allowed the halla to sniff at it, and soon it was nudging her hand with its face. Naia stroked the creature softly, and it lowered itself onto the ground beside her feet. She sat down next to it.

The halla’s body was not nearly as large as her Beast’s, but it was big enough for her to lean against gently for support. Before she knew it she was fast asleep, lulled by the steady rise and fall of the creature’s breaths.

* * *

_She runs._

_Not from anyone or anything, but in search of something. She does not know what she searches for, but she knows that it is urgent, so she runs._

_Deeper and deeper into the forest she goes, the dying light continually sustained in the sky before her. It knows no direction. Every way she turns, it is there, just out of reach, casting a long shadow that follows her around ominously._

_Deeper and thicker and faster she goes, until she gets the overwhelming feeling of being lost, and it frightens her out of her mind, so she tries not to think about it. Focus. She needs to find it. She needs to find it before it is too late._

_She thinks hard, tries to remember what it is she is looking for in the first place, but it won’t come. She cannot think of the word, only the feeling that accompanies it. Warmth. Safety. A sense of familiarity… Comfort._

_Then it comes to her. Home. She needs to get home._

The dream came to an end with the arrival of morning light and the sound of birds overhead. Naia stirred and opened her eyes to the sky above for the second day in a row. The halla made a soft, pleased noise beside her, like a kind of short, deep chirp. She stroked its head and then slowly got to her feet.

She hadn’t dreamt like that in a long time, a proper dream and not merely a visit to the Fade. It was almost unsettling, the vulnerability and helplessness she’d felt. Lost in the woods, again, like a small child. But the feeling did not last, and soon she forgot about it entirely.

It returned the following night, however. The same dream, the same feeling. She was running through the woods, and this time she knew that she was trying to find her home. What she did not know was _which_ home. Was she looking for her clan’s camp, or trying to get back to the farm? She’d called both places home at some point. Either way, she needed to find it, and once again the dream ended before she ever could.

She had been hoping to ask her Beast to take her to the Fade again the following night, but a small part of her wondered if the dream would return if she didn’t. And if it did, would it ever resolve?

It would be foolish to chase after an empty dream, she concluded, when she had the whole of the Fade at her fingertips. And so the following night, she petitioned her Beast to accompany her to the Fade instead, to which he gladly agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, lovely readers for your patience again. I know this chapter is a wee bit short, but the good news is the next chapter is nearly finished! So I can definitely have that one up in less than two weeks. Anyway I hope you all had a nice summer! I can't believe it's over T.T


	16. Chapter Fifteen

 

Naia spent the next couple of weeks in the company of her Beast more often than not. Mornings were devoted to working on her tapestry, and in the afternoons, following their lesson, she would read to him. When they finished with _Le Champion,_ they chose another book, and then another after that.

Those afternoons in the library were her absolute favorite time of day. They’d sit in their usual spot by the fireplace and simply forget the rest of the world for a few hours. Over time, personal space became less of a concern as comfort became a priority. When she’d complained one day about the discomfort that came with sitting on the floor for a prolonged period of time, he’d offered to run and fetch her some cushions. When she insisted he needn’t trouble himself, he laughed and offered his own back for her to lean upon instead.

He was not as soft to lean against as the halla, but it was not entirely uncomfortable, either. His fur was longer, too, and warm. He was about the size of her family’s horse, she noted. A nobler, gentler kind of beast than a wolf, but the two were not so different after all, and both could bear the weight of the human form with great ease.

After reading, they would retire to the dining room for supper, where she would request a trip to the Fade later that night. And every time, to her delight, he would grant her request. Then they would make their way up to the roof, where Naia would watch the stars until she fell asleep, just like the first time he’d taken her into the Fade. And then they would be there again, and he would take her to places of which she’d only dreamed.

The weeks flew by much like a dream, in fact _—_ the happy kind from which no one wants to awaken. Before she knew it, Naia had finished her tapestry. That was not to say she was entirely satisfied with the finished result, but it was the best she could do with her limited experience. She examined the simple depiction of a white halla in a field of forest green. Vaguely crude shapes made up the different parts of the creature’s body, with more detail spent on the intricate antlers than anything else. It was the eyes, however, that really brought the likeness to life. To the left of the halla was an open book, a symbol of knowledge. On its right, a single embrium blossom. It served as a reminder of the reason she was here, but it was also a lesser known symbol for love. Most Dalish today might use it to represent their romantic love for another, but Naia's intent was its original meaning, familial love.

She frowned as she pulled the tapestry off of the loom. It was rather large, and much heavier than she anticipated. She dragged it out of the room, attempting rather clumsily to keep it above the ground before finally wrapping it around her person and letting it drag behind her noisily. The sound of tapestry sliding against stone disappeared after a minute as the weight on her shoulders let up a bit. She stopped abruptly.

“Why did we stop?” Naia smiled at the sound of the small voice behind her and turned around in her spot.

“Hello, Cole.”

“Hello,” the pale ghost boy greeted. He was holding the corners of the tapestry in either hand, his face unsmiling but eyes alight with curious enthusiasm.

“I haven’t seen you in some time. To what do I owe the honor of this visit?” she asked.

“You needed help. I _like_ helping,” he stated excitedly. Naia laughed.

“So I see. Well, thank you.” She continued forward, and Cole followed dutifully. As they neared the staircase, Naia was struck with an idea. Rather than hanging the tapestry somewhere inside the castle to display her own personal coat of arms, she could use Cole’s assistance to display it somewhere much more appropriate.

“Let’s take this outside, Cole,” she suggested, leading him down the stairs.

 

* * *

 

“Well, _ara ghest_ , what do you think?”

The Dread Wolf blinked up at the handwoven tapestry that now hung from the tall banner pole guarding his castle. On the ground beside it was the discarded banner that previously hung in its place: a wolf baring its fangs, warning intruders to stay away. It looked nothing like him, of course, but it served its purpose.  Its twin hung from the opposite side of the castle, so that they now each had their own banner on display.

He turned to her. “I think it is a fine work of art. You are a woman of many talents, Mademoiselle Lavellan.” Naia beamed.

“You truly like it? I wanted to create a representation of myself and my values that I could put on display.” He nodded and returned his gaze to the new banner.

“Indeed. The book is obvious, of course. The embrium less so. If you were going for a literal approach, it might represent healing, but I am almost certain you chose it for its symbolic meaning: love. If I were someone who did not know you very well, I might surmise that the flower symbolized your one true love. That seems to be the custom among your people these days. However, I know that you are quite knowledgeable and protective of your people’s traditions. You would then of course be aware of the original intent of the symbol, and so I must conclude that the embrium is representative of your family.”

“Very good,” Naia commented, looking impressed.

“I must admit I am most curious about the purpose behind the halla, however. I know that the halla traditionally represents safe journeys. Is it perhaps part of the heraldry of clan Lavellan?”

“Hmm? No, that’s not it,” she responded. Her clan’s symbol did have antlers, but this had nothing to do with them. Strangely, she did not feel the need to represent them at all. Instead, she chose the halla as her own, personal symbol. Her Beast was right in that it represented safe journeys, as a token symbol of the goddess Ghilan’nain. But Ghilan’nain also was a voice for the innocent and meek, and so the halla reminded her of childhood, of simpler times. It was something she felt she’d lost when her mother died, but she’d since learned it was never truly gone.

“My mother used to call me _da’halla_ ,” she began to explain.

“Ah, is that why you chose to honor Ghilan’nain when you turned eighteen?” he inquired. Naia instinctively raised her hand to her face, lightly tracing the lines of her vallaslin. She would never forget the pain she’d endured upon receiving the markings, but it could never overpower the pride she’d felt afterwards for her people.

“That is part of the reason, yes, but I can assure you there was a lot more thought put into my decision than a simple childhood nickname,” she answered.

“Perhaps so. Still, it suits you well, I think,” he noted.

“My vallaslin?” she asked, confused. His countenance took on a darker hue at the sound of the word.

“No. I have never been... particularly fond of the branding of our people’s faces,” he said with a hint of disgust. It was not difficult to guess why. His expression lightened again. “I was referring to the endearment.  _Da'halla._ ”

“Oh.” The name sounded strange coming from him, but stranger still was the fact that she did not mind hearing it.

“So what was your reasoning behind the halla on the banner, then?” he pressed.

“It’s nothing too elaborate, really,” she explained. “It is simply an image that has always resonated with me, ever since childhood. My people believe the halla to be extinct, lost forever. When I was a child, I wanted so badly for that to be wrong, for halla to still exist. I even prayed to Ghilan’nain once that I would meet one, but of course I never did.” She paused. “Huh. I suppose I have now, haven’t I?”

“It appears the goddess answered your prayer, then,” The Dread Wolf noted, a curious look in his eyes.

“It appears she has,” Naia agreed, though she knew that could not possibly be true. “Anyway, to answer your question, I chose the halla because it gives me hope. I suppose for me, hope is what it represents.”

“A worthwhile aspiration, that. It shall serve as a reminder to me, as well, to never give up. _Ma serannas_ … _da’halla_.”

Her first thought was that she should never have told him that nickname. Her second was that the sound of the endearment coming from his honeyed voice was not completely displeasing to her ears.

“There is one thing concerning your banner that I have not yet figured out,” he continued.

“Oh?”

“How did you manage to replace it all by yourself?”

Oh.

The banner poles were rather large and difficult to maneuver without at least a little help, and her Beast was no fool. When she did not answer right away, he grinned knowingly. “How long have you known about Compassion?” he asked.

Compassion? “If you are talking about the ghost that lives here and takes the form of a young shemlen named Cole, then I’ve known about him since the beginning, more or less.”

“Ghost?” he echoed with a raised brow. “I suppose you could call him that, given the circumstances. He is actually a spirit of compassion, trapped outside of the Fade,” he explained. “He lingers about the castle, usually out of sight, and the only thing he seems to want is to help people. It gives him a sense of purpose, I believe. The problem is, he does not come across very many people here, and those who do meet him are instantly frightened away. I think he must be very lonely, but he absolutely refuses to leave this castle. I cannot gather why.”

A spirit who can’t return to the Fade? How sad. And all he wants to do is help people, too. Naia thought that perhaps she could try and help him, instead.

“But you’re already helping, more than you know.” Naia turned to find Cole standing next to her then, peering up at her from under the wide brim of his hat. “He needs help; hindered, hurt, and I can’t do anything about it. But _you_ can. You _are_. And _I_ can help _you._  I want to help.”

“I know you do, Cole.” Naia reassured him. He turned to the Dread Wolf next.

“But I like it when she calls me that,” the spirit said, responding to some unheard question. “It’s not my name, only it is, now. _Da’halla_ is not her name, either, but she likes it when you call her that. You should keep calling her that,” he suggested, his tone growing excited as though he had just discovered the cure for consumption. Naia froze and Cole tilted his head. “Palms sweating and cheeks heating. Have I done something wrong? But I should go.” Creators, why did he have to keep describing her feelings out loud like that?

The Dread Wolf shook his head. “You have done nothing wrong, Com _—_ _Cole_ ,” he assured the boy. “Just try to be more careful with what you say. And you are certainly welcome to stay as long as you like.” Cole grinned from ear to ear. The sight of it was refreshing and Naia could not help but relax as a grin slipped across her face too.

“He’s right,” she agreed. She didn’t actually want him to leave. In fact, she liked having him around.

“It makes the hallways seem a little less empty,” he said, finishing her thoughts out loud. “Welcome, warm, wanted. Feels like the four of us are a strange, little family. The belle and the beast, the halla, and the ghost. Strange, but it’ll do.”

“You… think of us as family?” the Dread Wolf repeated, watching her. She shifted.

“Ah, that’s not exactly… I mean, I don’t _think_ of it that way, but I suppose it does almost _feel_ like we…might be....” She trailed off, mildly flustered. “I don’t know.”

“It is quite alright. You do not always need to know everything, _lethallan_. Though I am honored to know that you might hold me in such regard at all,” he said with a smile, “and glad that you thought to include the halla.”

“Well, she lives here, too, after all. I would not want to leave her out,” she said. He regarded her curiously, still smiling.

“That is kind of you. Tell me, have you thought about it any further?” he asked. “Can you guess what her name might be?”

In truth, she’d almost forgotten about that. Was it so important to him that she guess the creature’s name? She supposed she ought to think about it some more, then. For now, she had nothing.

“I am sorry, _ara ghest_. I truly have no idea.” If he was unsatisfied with her answer, he did not show it. Instead, he nodded, then excused himself after a moment and went back inside.

* * *

 

That night was the first one in a while in which she did not ask her Beast to take her to the Fade. She was extra tired, for some reason. Perhaps she just needed a break from all of the excitement. She went straight to her bed for the first time in a long time, curled up under the covers ( _Creators_ , she’d forgotten how unbelievably comfortable her bed was), and embraced slumber.

 

_She dreams again, same as the last time. As she continues her search through the woods, she can hear the faint sound of a woman’s voice. She follows it, and as it grows louder, she recognizes it: it is her mother calling for her. And in that moment, nothing else matters but finding her._

_Closer and closer she gets, confident that the voice will finally lead her home. But when the forest clears, she is standing on a grassy hill that leads instead to the Dread Wolf’s castle. At first she is confused, but then her mother is calling her again, and she knows that she mustn’t waste any time._

_“Da’halla!” the voice calls from beyond the castle walls, and she runs towards it, greeted by the very banner she’d just completed. The woven halla appears to be smiling at her, welcoming her home. She enters the castle and, unable to pinpoint the exact direction from which the voice is coming, begins frantically opening door after door._

_She turns down the next hallway, and there is Cole, standing _—_ no, floating _—i_ n the center of the hall as if it is the most natural thing in the world. _

_“I can help,” he declares, and then proceeds to vanish behind one of the doors as if it were made of fog and not wood. He then opens the door from the other side and shakes his head before doing the same thing with another door. Naia barely has time to wonder at this before she hears her mother’s voice again, this time clearly coming from the door beside her. She hastily grabs the handle and throws it open._

_Standing in the doorway is an eluvian, only its surface is made of clear, glowing water, not unlike the Well of Knowledge. On the other side of it is the Fade, and not far off is her mother, beckoning to her. She does not know if it is truly her mother or not, but she cannot seem to care. Abandoning all hesitation, she steps through the mirror’s surface…_

 

…only to wake with a start. It was still dark. Frustrated at the abrupt end to her dream, Naia got up and began to pace steadily back and forth.

The dream had felt so real. Not in the same way in which the Fade seemed real, but she’d been convinced that it was actually her mother calling for her. And although she knew it was merely a dream, she could not help but feel a bizarre sense of loss that came upon waking before it ended.

If she managed to fit in a few more hours of sleep tonight, would the dream continue? She wondered at this as she lay down again, willing sleep to overtake her mind. Why should she let it bother her, if it did not?

But of course it _did_ bother her, so much so that she had trouble falling asleep again, and when sleep did finally arrive, it brought no further dreams.

* * *

 

Naia found herself mildly distracted the following day. When asked if she was alright, she told her Beast that she simply had not been sleeping well. In truth, she wanted to know the conclusion of that recurring dream, and it scared her because it trumped her desire to go to the Fade with him again. Still, she had to know what would happen. Her Beast did not seem to mind when she excused herself without explanation following dinner and an extra glass of wine to induce heavy sleep (which almost made her feel like a child who was sneaking a sip of her father’s spirits). Drowsy from the wine, she landed on her bed with a plop, and before long she fell into a deep sleep.

In her mind, she saw the same exact picture that she’d last seen in her dreams. Her mother was in the Fade, beyond the mirror, waiting for her.

“Come to me, _da’halla_ ,” the apparition called with open arms, and Naia went. There was that same, gentle tug at her consciousness, and suddenly she was standing in the Fade. Only this time it was actually the Fade, and, she realized with chagrin, not actually her mother. The false spirit had brought her back again.

“Why have you taken me here?” she inquired instantly, arms crossed and voice slightly raised. The apparition’s eyebrows rose, crinkling her mother’s vallaslin in the process.

“You say that as if I brought you against your will. I called to you, and you followed me here. Eagerly. Or your subconscious did, at least. Are you angry with me?” Her casual tone and demeanor as she asked this seemed to rile Naia a bit.

“Of course I am, after what you did!” she exclaimed.

“And what did I do, specifically, that bothers you so much?” Naia clenched her fists, both arms held tensely at her sides as “Comfort” drew closer to her.

“You.. you….” She hesitated, trying to think clearly. She hadn’t even taken the time yet to think about this fully _—_ it hurt when she tried. “For starters, you left me!” she accused. The false spirit’s face fell at that. “I thought you were a friend, and now I don’t know what you are. But none of that matters, because at the end of the day, you were the one I confided in. I relied on you and you left me behind!” A sob broke from her lips without her permission. She wanted to be angry at the deception, but instead she just felt abandoned. It was like she had lost yet another mother figure. Only it was extra difficult when this mother figure bore her real mother’s face.

“I never meant to do that. I promise from now on I will be here for you, anytime you need me. Look at me, _da’len_.” She lifted Naia’s chin gently, and their eyes met. “I am here. I have not gone anywhere. Whenever you need me, I can bring you here. You just need to let me. But I cannot do that when you are always coming here with _him_.”

“You mean Solas?” she asked, and Comfort grinned.

“He is very attractive, is he not?” Naia’s brow furrowed in confusion at the abrupt change of subject.

“I… what?” she managed to ask, but her thoughts drifted to the first time she’d seen Solas. She’d been surprised at how charming he was, his smile, his eyes, his cheekbones…. Comfort watched her expression change and laughed.

“You see? It’s true. I completely understand if you prefer to spend time with him over me. But you must come and visit me from time to time, by yourself. And you must promise not to tell that stubborn wolf. Can you do that for me, _da’len_?” Naia frowned. She was being asked not only to trust her again after being deceived the first time, but also to lie to her Beast. She had no desire to do either.

“How can you expect me to trust you?” she asked.

Comfort shrugged. “I don’t. But you are here now. For whatever reason, your subconscious mind led you here. Curiosity, no doubt, got the better of you. And that curiosity will only continue to lead you back to me, whether you trust me or not.”

“And why is that?”

“Simple,” she replied. “Fen’Harel. The Well. You wish to finish the story, but you cannot do that without me.” She was right, of course, and Naia hated it. “So, _da’len_ ,” she continued, “will you come with me or not?”

Naia hesitated, but she already knew the answer in her heart. She gave a reluctant nod, and with that, the false spirit took her by the hand and began to lead her away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who don't follow me on tumblr, I commissioned heysales to do a portrait of Naia and I'm so happy with how it turned out. Of course, it's based off of my playthrough so she looks a little different from how she appears in my fic. You can view it [here](http://bardinhightown.tumblr.com/image/149752242011)
> 
> I've also been going back over my older chapters and doing some light editing, but nothing major- just grammar, sentence structure, flow, etc. I'm getting more and more critical of my writing, but I guess that's good because it means I'm improving, right? But when I see some of the stuff I wrote in the first few chapters, I can't help but think- how did any of you keep reading after that? Maker bless all you readers who are still with me. I hope the story itself is good enough to keep you invested in Naia's journey. I promise, it's a good one, with a happy ending!


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A whole lotta Fade in this chapter. Solas would be proud of me.

The streets of Arlathan were crowded. A sea of people moved in giant waves, gradually and in every direction. The sun must have been relentless, Naia thought as she saw quite a few people removing outer garments. Still, it seemed the whole population was outside, enjoying the sunny weather. A mother held her two children by the hands, their high cheekbones moving impossibly higher as they smiled and laughed. Nearby, a man was arguing animatedly with a street vendor. He pointed a loaf of bread at the merchant as though it were a sword.

All around, slaves tended to their masters’ needs. Some had come along to carry belongings. A few others walked side by side with well-dressed, likely wealthier masters. These slaves were typically larger, their arms bare and muscles exposed. Bodyguards, Naia guessed, meant to intimidate and protect.

There were also a few slaves not accompanied by their masters. They each seemed very focused on their tasks, and Naia concluded that they were not actually catching a break so much as running errands. But then the view from the Well began to follow two slaves in particular, both of whom appeared to belong to one of Andruil’s followers. They made their way slowly but determinedly through the sea and into a less crowded street. Then, after making certain no one was watching, they slipped into a shady nook, hidden from view.

Their barely audible whispers made it even harder to interpret the Elvhen words, but Naia heard both _tonight_ and _safe._ Then one of them slipped back onto the street and returned to the crowd. The other followed a few moments later, unseen.

The scene dissolved into the next, bright sunlight swiftly replaced by darkness. A small orb of dim light rested in an outstretched hand, illuminating the deep, red lines of Andruil’s vallaslin that graced a hooded face. Dark eyes shifted, left and right and left again, carefully surveying their surroundings. The hooded figure’s other hand was attached to that of a smaller figure, not even half its size. The orb lit their way as they moved, quickly and quiet as can be, towards a door.

The light changed color then, shrinking into a tiny pinpoint, so that it was the only thing Naia could see in the dark. It floated towards the direction of the door and she heard the sound of a handle turning and a door swinging open. Then the light disappeared, and a faint, blue glow took its place. It was coming from the other side of the door, and as the figures moved toward it she could see their destination and the source of the glow.

They stopped in front of the eluvian, its soft iridescence surrounding their silhouettes like a halo. The taller figure crouched low and embraced the smaller one, gently whispering _everything will be alright, da’len. We’ll be together soon. You must be strong._ Then they stood, faced the eluvian, and whispered, very clearly, “ _Fen’harel enansal_.”

The mirror began to hum softly as it grew brighter, revealing the image of a round, candlelit room that was filled with people. More slaves, it appeared. The smaller figure stepped into the mirror, and was greeted by those on the other side. He removed his hood, and Naia was shocked to see the bright red vallaslin covering his young face. It seemed not even children were safe from being forcefully and painfully branded. How could anyone allow such a thing? The boy blinked back bittersweet tears as he took the hand of an elderly woman and left the room with her.

The child was led down a hallway and a flight of stairs, and Naia was struck with recognition as she took in the familiar stone walls and architecture. They emerged into a dining hall, and Naia was amazed to see her own dinner table filled with people for once. He smiled from ear to ear at the sight of all the food, and she mirrored his expression. The Dread Wolf had opened his home to the slaves, giving them sanctuary and freedom, and it was beautiful.

The boy eagerly went to join his kin, all of whom had various designs of vallaslin etched onto their faces. Most had finished eating hours ago, she reckoned, and were just talking and sharing stories. A few were singing, and more than one had had too much to drink, from the looks of it. Most of them appeared to be older, though she spied more than a few children sitting in the corner, either fast asleep or trying their hardest to stay awake. It must have been very late, but no one seemed to care, as there were celebrations to be had.

The crowd went quiet, then, and Naia followed their gaze. Fen’harel stood in the entrance to the hall, draped in fur and leaning casually against the doorframe with arms crossed. The little boy stood up and tentatively moved closer to the Dread Wolf. The older woman called to him, but he continued his journey until he was standing in front of the demigod. His little head barely reached past the Dread Wolf’s knee, and he reached up and tugged on the fabric covering said knee. Fen’Harel looked down at him, patiently.

“ _Fen’harel, ma serannas,_ ” the boy said. The Dread Wolf smiled and patted the boy’s head before the scene disappeared.

 

* * *

 

She was in the Fade again before she knew it, just like she’d never left. Only this time she was with Solas. Naia felt an ounce of guilt for keeping the truth from him, but she regretted nothing. She’d learned something amazing about him last night, and she treasured that knowledge. After seeing for herself the beginnings of his rebellious act to free the slaves, she could even say that she was proud of him.

They walked the Fade together, this time in a garden with hedges that towered high above them into a cloudless sky. Solas waved his hand, and large, plum-colored blossoms began to bloom to their left and right. He picked one and offered it to her. She laughed and took it.

“If I didn’t know better, Monsieur Solas, I’d say you were trying to charm me.”

Solas placed his hands behind his back, his face betraying no reaction as Naia tucked the flower behind her ear.

“I am certain I do not know what you mean, as I have done nothing to elicit such an accusation,” he said innocently. “Are you saying you find me charming, _lethallan_?”

She opened her mouth to respond and then closed it. There was that silver tongue she’d heard so much about. He had twisted her words around to accuse her of admiring him, of all things. To tell the truth, he wasn’t entirely wrong; she admired him quite fondly. But then, she would not consider herself his friend if that weren’t so. It was just that sometimes, during moments like these, she felt as though he expected more from her than that. Sometimes, when he looked at her, his eyes lingered just a little too long and she wanted to say something but could not find the words. But what more could she give to him? She already considered him a dear friend, and she was doing her best to uncover the mystery surrounding him and the castle.

Before Solas could comment that he’d rendered her speechless (though he did appear rather amused by it, to Naia’s annoyance), the bright sky above their heads grew suddenly dark. She looked up, perplexed, as a flash of lightning lit the sky, followed by the crash of thunder. The illusion Solas had crafted was now collapsing, the hedges literally falling down all around them. Naia looked to Solas for explanation, but he was already moving, his face intently focused. He stepped around her, his back to her as he faced the direction in which the lightning had struck. It was hard to see in the dark, but there was something there, something that had him on edge.

There was another flash of light, but this time it came from Solas himself, forming a shimmering globe that surrounded them. More magic, she realized, eyes wide with wonder. She wondered briefly what it was for. Then there was another crash of thunder and she remembered herself.

“What’s happening?” she asked, concerned, but Solas said nothing. His hands remained outstretched towards the globe of light, probably fueling it, if Naia were to guess. She peeked out from behind him to see for herself, and froze.

Several meters away stood a horrible beast, a gargantuan monster the likes of which Naia had never seen. It let out a deep, petrifying roar of a laugh that struck her not with terror but with panic. The creature stood on two legs, at least four times as tall as her. It held in its large hand what appeared to be a whip made of pure lightning. Thick and jagged ridges trailed up the beast’s sinewy arms, ending in massive spikes that grew from its shoulders like a natural armor. Its head was crowned with great, black horns, like something out of the religious text Varric had used during one of their reading lessons. It was, without a doubt, a demon.

The creature stomped forward, swinging its heavy arms about like two big clubs. It was not close enough to touch them yet, but then it drew one arm up high above its head, and Naia’s heart nearly stopped as the long, spindly bolt of lightning flew straight up into the sky with a loud _crack_. Solas firmly held his stance with legs apart, knees slightly bent and arms outstretched, willing the globe of light around them to grow stronger. It hummed in the way she’d begun to notice that magic did. The sound was surprisingly soothing despite the chaos that was about to crash down upon them, and Naia shut her eyes, bracing herself as the whip began its descent. If she died in the Fade, would she die for real? What would become of her, then?

But she was not about to learn the answer to either question. Oblivion never came. The humming stopped, and she opened her eyes and blinked. Solas had lowered his arms, and his shoulders were slumped a bit. The globe of light was gone, but so was the lightning whip the demon had been holding, to her relief. The beast roared, as if wounded by the mere fact that his attack had been deflected.

Solas’ hands moved quickly then, tracing some invisible sigil. Light trailed off of his fingertips like tiny droplets of rain. It formed shapes in the air while his feet carefully stepped in rhythm with his hands. He looked serene, but focused, and she was mesmerized by the agile but graceful dance. Then it ended, and a similar, glowing shape appeared on the ground beneath the demon. Several rocks, all varying in size, flew from different directions, creating an enormous, fist-shaped formation above the creature’s head. The stone fist then rained down in one fell swoop, crushing the demon to the ground. It let out a final roar, not a cry of pain but of outrage.

The creature disappeared in a puff of smoke and haze, and the darkness dispersed, leaving them stranded in the raw Fade. Solas turned to her then, lightly panting and eyeing her for any sign of distress, but she was calm. More than that, she was a bit excited, if not a little frustrated, perhaps, at how useless she’d felt in that moment. But she’d gotten another glimpse of magic, this time powerful magic used in battle. She had so many questions.

“Are you alright?” she asked first, before he could ask the same. His brow raised.

“I…. Yes, quite. Just a bit tired. Fade magic will do that.”

“I can tell,” she responded with a knowing grin, noting that he’d lost his usual eloquence and use of full-length sentences. “What was that thing?”

“Pride demon,” he replied.

“Incredible. Solas, I didn’t know you could do magic in the Fade! I….” She wanted to ask how it was done. In fact, she wanted to know if she could learn, too. She hated feeling helpless, and what if she were to come across another demon when she was here without him? But he couldn’t know that she was coming here without him, and guilt tugged at her conscience again, so she simply said, “ _Ma serannas._ For saving me.”

“There is no need,” he replied, looking displeased with himself. “We would not have been attacked if it had not been for me.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, brow furrowing.

“The illusion I conjured had a barrier in place to keep demons from entering. Both barrier and illusion take a great deal of focus, however, and I may have gotten… distracted.”

“Oh,” she said aloud, and then, internally, _Oh, no_. Had… had _she_ been the distraction? She could hardly imagine why. And yet, she already knew the answer. She could feel it again, steadily building up. The intensity of his feelings towards her. The uncertainty of her own feelings. She wanted to wake up, to be back in the castle, with him in wolf form once more. When she was awake, things were more clear. When he was a wolf, their relationship was less complicated, and everything was fine. “It’s all right, _ara ghest_ ,” she said quickly. “Let’s just go home.”

He nodded and wasted no time as the world around them dissolved into blackness.

 

* * *

 

It was mid-morning when she found herself in the Fade again. She’d curled up in her bed, willing herself to sleep, though she’d only just woken up a few hours before. It was the only time of day she did not need to worry about her Beast being around, though, so it would just have to do.

“Back so soon?” the false spirit greeted coyly upon her arrival, a half smile gracing her mother’s face.

“Try not to make a fuss about it,” Naia said. “You know why I am here.”

“I do,” Comfort confirmed. “Though I’d like to believe you genuinely came to visit little old me. I do miss your company sometimes, you know.”

“Is that so?” she asked.

Comfort nodded, and it struck Naia that perhaps she was simply telling the truth. There was something about the false spirit, at times, that made it feel like her mother was really there with her. More than just the physical likeness, of course. There was a certain warmth that emanated from her, on rare occasions. Sometimes she would look at Naia with such kindness in her eyes, the same kindness her real mother had exuded, once. But then it would be gone in a flash, and her distrust would return instantly. It was as if the false spirit were two different people. Or maybe no one at all. Naia still knew so little about her, and that bothered her most.

“What is your name? Your real name?” she asked. Comfort smiled sadly.

“I hardly remember. Once, I had many names. Now there is no one left to call them,” she said, deepening the mystery.

“Well, what would you like to be called?” she asked politely.

“From you, _da’len_ , I would simply like to be seen as a friend, rather than an enemy. I hope we can be friends, still,” she replied. Naia pursed her lips. She did not want to trust the false spirit, but a small part of her—call it her inner child—told her not to worry.

“Fine,” she yielded. “If that is what you wish, _falon_.”

She smiled, and again Naia could feel that sort of warmth coming from her. “It is. Thank you.”

They came before the Well once more, and Naia watched intently as the surface shimmered and glowed. Inside familiar castle walls stood a group of slaves, talking quietly but excitedly amongst themselves. One of them came before an expectant Fen’harel and got down on one knee.

“No,” The Dread Wolf spoke, and he also took a knee beside the other man, so that they were eye to eye. He placed a hand on the slave’s shoulder. “You no longer need to debase yourselves in front of me, or anyone else for that matter. Do you understand?” he asked. The man looked at him with a mix of uncertainty and disbelief, but nodded. Fen’harel stood and helped the man to his feet, then turned to address the crowd.

“My brethren, we are equals now,” he said, loud and confidently. “You and I are no different from one another. We are One People, and you are slaves no longer!” He turned back to the now ex-slave beside him and placed his hands in front the man’s face, one crossed in front of the other. Naia thought it looked strange as Dread Wolf concentrated. But then a soft glow emitted from his hands as he passed them slowly over the other man’s face.

“ _Ar lasa mala revas,_ ” he spoke. _I grant you freedom_. He removed his hands, and to Naia’s amazement, the previously branded face was now bare. Fen’harel had completely removed the man’s vallaslin.

There were gasps and whispers all around, and soon a queue had formed, everyone eager to remove their slave markings as well. It filled Naia with joy to see her people gaining their well-deserved freedom, and she almost wished she could go back in time just to have the spell performed on her, too. Her vallaslin had been a part of her for nearly nine years, but what once filled her with pride for her people now left her with shame and disgust for their ugly past. It was not something she wanted to hold onto, if she were ever given the choice.

The scene shifted, then, to reveal a garden overflowing with flowering tree branches of white and pink. The blossoming trees framed the entrance to a beautiful, though humbly sized, ivory castle. More tree branches surrounded the castle, twisting along its walls and even supporting its base so that the entire structure never actually touched the ground.

Between two large trees hung a wooden swing, and upon it sat the goddess Ghilan’nain. She was suspended high in the air, too high to have climbed up there without magic. Her white curls were pinned back and adorned with tiny pink blossoms. On the ground below, Fen’harel strolled into view, and a smile spread beneath the goddess’s round nose and rosy-brown cheeks.

 _“Savhalla, isa’ma’lin!”_ she greeted warmly. He returned her smile and waved. To Naia’s surprise, she then leapt into the air and floated gracefully like a waterfall to the ground beside him, her skirt trailing behind her modestly. She almost reminded Naia of a doll she’d seen at the market once. Ghilan’nain laughed with glee as she embraced her “brother.” He returned the embrace and then glanced around.

“Let us talk in private, shall we?” he suggested. She nodded and then gestured for him to follow her.

They made their way up the thin, ivory staircase that led to the castle, and then down several hallways, before stopping in front of an ordinary-looking door. Ghilan’nain procured a small, silver key from a chain around her neck, and then proceeded to unlock it.

Inside was an eluvian, complete with an orb encrusted in the center of its frame. Just like the other Evanuris, she too had her own, private gateway to the Fade itself. She spoke the password, and the two demigods stepped through the shining mirror and into the raw Fade.

“How is everything going?” the younger of the two asked as they walked.

“Things could be better. I have… concerns,” he confessed. “I have not been able to sleep at night these past few weeks. I haven’t even had time to walk the Fade, to seek Wisdom….”

“Then talk to me, instead,” the goddess suggested with a hand resting soothingly on his shoulder.

“Thank you. You are my dearest friend, _Athimathe_.” Naia’s brow furrowed, not understanding the last word he’d said, but she figured it was an endearment of some sort and moved on without asking for a translation.

“Some might argue that I’m your only friend, Solas.” Ghilan’nain teased, her casual use of the god’s true given name drawing Naia’s attention. Their relationship was clearly much closer than she’d previously guessed.

“I cannot, in good faith, deny that,” he said with a laugh. His smile faded quickly. “But I have no choice in the matter. I cannot ‘play nice’ with Elgar’nan and the others, whether Mythal likes it or not. I fear you are the only one I can confide in, now. If I were to give the others reason to believe that I am anything other than my usual, indifferent self, they will start to get suspicious. I must keep up appearances, act as though nothing has changed. I need them to believe that the disappearances of a few slaves are completely unrelated occurrences, and not the work of a traitor in their midst. You will tell me if they start to notice anything, yes?”

“Yes, of course,” Ghilan’nain assured him. “You have nothing to worry about, _falon_. Nobody is getting suspicious. But you have been avoiding any and all social gatherings, staying in that big, secluded castle too often. They’ve taken notice of that much. You need to get out more often, go and visit someone, sometime.”

“I am visiting you right now,” he said in defense.

“ _Solas_ ,” she chided playfully. “You know what I mean. Mythal misses you, though she’ll never admit it. And I know that keeping to yourself is nothing new, but even you used to make grand appearances, if late ones, every now and then. If you want to avoid suspicion, you must carry on like you always have. What of your reputation, for instance?”

He frowned. “My reputation? Ah, yes. I’ve not had the time to… to entertain women, as it were. I’ve not had time to do much of anything, these days.”

“Then make time. Take your own advice and keep up appearances. You can’t risk the others discovering this rebellion of yours, no matter what.”

“Yes, but I cannot risk an outsider witnessing the rebellion, either. You see the issue, then, if I were to take a woman home with me. And besides,” he added, “I am not that man anymore.” Ghilan’nain smiled at that.

“True, but the others don’t know that. You talked a big game to Elgar’nan the last time we were all together, remember? So perhaps you needn’t actually bring any women home, then. A simple memory spell can make a few key people think that they've seen you do so. Word travels quickly amongst our people, you know.”

“You make an excellent point. Alright, then,” he conceded. She smiled at him and took his hand in hers, squeezing gently.

“You are doing so well, _isa’ma’lin_. You are finally bringing freedom and sanctuary to many of our People.” The Dread Wolf did not appear to share her enthusiasm.

“But is it enough? There are so many who still require my help. Every day the People make more and more requests of me, begging me to save their sister, or their nephew, or their friend. They do not understand that I can only bring in so many at a time. We need to move slowly. That is why I started with the children and the elderly. But they are growing anxious. How much longer must they wait? And even then, how long until my plot is uncovered?”

“Relax,” Ghilan’nain encouraged. “You are being very careful, dear Solas. You needn’t worry yourself. You have done so much already, and you should be proud of yourself for that. Like I am proud of you.” The goddess’ smile was contagious, and Naia found herself smiling as well. She was pleased to know that Solas had once had a friend like Ghilan’nain.

 

* * *

 

That night she walked the Fade with her Beast again. She was beginning to grow weary from spending so much time in the Fade each day, effectively limiting the amount of actual sleep she was getting. She hoped Solas would not notice anything, and to her luck, he seemed a bit distant that night. Or perhaps he was just concentrating. She remembered that she’d distracted him the other night, and felt almost guilty for that. Not that it had been her fault, of course, but it concerned her, nonetheless. She enjoyed their Fade trips together and did not want to lose that. Perhaps if he didn’t feel the need to worry about her so much, he wouldn’t have to concentrate so hard on keeping danger away.

But then, had the situation truly been so dangerous in the first place? She’d been led to believe that she was safe in the Fade, more or less. She knew there were dangerous beings here, but Solas had told her she had nothing to worry about. But if she didn’t need to worry, then why did she need protecting? Could that demon have actually killed her, given the chance?

“Solas,” she called, causing him to halt his steps. He turned to face her. “I’ve been wondering something. What would have happened, last night, if that demon had really….” she trailed off, not wanting to finish the thought aloud. “You once told me there were demons and bad spirits in the Fade, but I thought you said they couldn’t really hurt me.”

“I believe I said they cannot harm you _physically_ ,” he explained. “Should the demon have succeeded, however, you would still be alive, but your mind would be separated from your body.” He began to pace slowly back and forth, hands behind his back. “Your consciousness would be forever trapped in the Fade while your body remained in a comatose state, at least until something happened to either mind or body.” A sudden discomfort fell over Naia at his words. The entire time she had been coming here, she’d been at risk of _that_? How could she have been so ignorant and foolish?

“Once upon a time, I may have been able to reverse such an effect,” he continued, “but as it is, I cannot use magic outside of the Fade. If such a thing were to happen to you now, I would be completely powerless to help.” He came to a stop and looked at her intently. “You must know that I will never let that happen to you, _lethallan_. Losing you would….” He paused, as if unable to finish the thought, eyes distant and face drawn with worry. She reached out, cupping his cheek in her hand, forcing him to look directly at her.

“You’re not going to lose me, _ara ghest_ ,” she said reassuringly. He smiled, but those grey-blue eyes were filled with an ancient sadness that she could not trace. Her own words did little to comfort her, either, as she thought about what was at stake. What if something were to happen to her in the Fade when he was not here to protect her? She let her hand fall back to her side, but held his gaze. Then she was filled with a sudden resolve. “If you’re worried about me, then _teach me_ ,” she said, her voice growing eager with determination. “Show me how to defend myself.”

He studied her for a moment, hesitant. “That is… an interesting proposition. If I have given you reason to believe I am incapable of keeping you safe, I apologize. The other night was a mistake, one for which I will do everything in my power to prevent from happening again. I promise you that.”

“No. No, it’s not that,” she assured him. “I genuinely want to learn. Solas, last night was the most exciting night of my life.” He looked at her incredulously, and she realized how ridiculous she sounded. “Hear me out,” she continued. “I didn’t know what was going to happen, but something inside of me kept me from being afraid. And, yes, maybe that’s a bad thing. Maybe I should have been fearful, but instead I just felt helpless. And I hate that feeling. I want to be able to handle myself in any situation. So, do you think you could teach me to do what you did?” she asked, hopeful.

He chuckled softly. “Your bravery and enthusiasm are always refreshing, _lethallan_. I would love nothing more than to teach you what I know.” Her eyes lit up at that. “However, I should explain the reason for my hesitance. I have never actually had the occasion to teach magic, before. Not to someone who’s never used it, at least.” She hadn’t thought of that. Would it even be possible, then? “If it can be done,” he continued, “it would be useless to you outside the Fade, of course.”

Naia nodded. She’d suspected as much. By now she’d learned that the historic fall of Arlathan had stolen much from her people, including the ability to wield magic. She just did not know the why or how of it. Yet. But even if she could not put what she learned to practical use, she knew it would be worth it.

“I know,” she said, heart beating faster as she realized how close she was to convincing him. She could not explain how, but she swore she could feel the magic calling out to her then, waiting for her to take it and make it her own. In that moment, she had no doubt in her heart that it was possible. She’d always known she would find magic someday. She took a deep breath. “I still want to try. Please?” she asked, eyes wide and pleading with him to acquiesce. He laughed softly again.

“I do not think I could deny you anything if I tried, _da’halla_ ,” he said, craftily stealing her childhood nickname for an endearment. Then, “Yes, alright.”

Her heart leapt at that. She was so overjoyed, she almost hugged him, but instead she composed herself and said, “ _Ma serannas_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sort of a weird place to end the chapter, but it was getting long. But now you know what you have to look forward to, next time! Yay, magic!
> 
> On that note, I have a present for you! I commissioned the amazing [geekyjez](http://geeky-jez.tumblr.com) to draw Naia and Solas dancing in the Fade, bc why not? And though that scene will sadly not be making it into my fic, I can guarantee something similar might be happening in the next chapter, so you'll have to wait and see ;) Enjoy!  
> 


	18. Chapter Seventeen

 

“Where shall we begin?” Solas mused, looking around at the vastness of the raw Fade in which they stood. He spotted a small rock formation nearby, and led her to it. Naia mirrored him as he took a seat, their bodies angled towards one another. She tried to keep her excitement contained as she steadied her hands and placed them in her lap, eyes wide and ready to learn about magic.

“The first thing you must understand about magic is its origin,” he began. “All magic comes from the Fade. Look around, _lethallan_. This is the birthplace of magic itself. Can you feel it? If you close your eyes, you may even hear it, softly humming.” She did as he instructed. It was faint, but she could hear a definite humming coming from every direction.

“I hear it,” she confirmed, keeping her eyes closed.

“Excellent,” he said. “You must remove all other distractions from your mind, so that only that sound remains. Think of it as song that was written just for you.”

She concentrated, until the only thing on her mind was the sound of humming. It seemed to grow louder in her mind, her heartbeat crafting a rhythm to support the magic that was singing to her. Was this the same song her people used to hear? It was simply incredible.

“Now, try to visualize it as a force of energy, a light that you can shape and mold to your will. Can you see it in your mind’s eye?”

Naia nodded, imagining the sound as a physical ball of light, a brilliant source of energy that made her feel warm and safe like the sun. But the light was just out of reach. If only she could grab hold of it somehow.

“Do not try to control it,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. “Instead, you must become one with it. The magic already belongs to you, _lethallan_. As a descendant of the Elvhen people, it is your birthright. Think of it as a part of you; as an extension of yourself, even.” She breathed in and out slowly as Solas spoke, relaxing under the hum of the magic and the sound of his honeyed voice.

She imagined the light now as though it were a part of her, and she could almost feel it _inside_ of her, tugging at her very core. It thrummed powerfully from within, an entirely new and completely unexplored feeling that had her excited and scared all at once. And yet something about it felt so _natural_. It was her birthright, he’d said, but when she thought about it like that, she wasn’t quite certain she was ready to own it. What if she could not handle it? Her mind began to flood with concern as her heart pounded faster, making the rhythm suddenly all wrong. Then the energy slipped from her grasp before she had time to react.

“No!” she called desperately, opening her eyes. It was gone. The song had ended.

“I lost it,” she lamented, but Solas looked genuinely impressed.

“From my perspective, I would say that you, in fact, _found it._ ” His voice filled the void that the song had left in its wake, soothing her as she pondered his words.

“I did, didn’t I?” she said. She may not have achieved what she was hoping for, but she’d certainly made a breakthrough. She'd found the magic. Perhaps, in time, she would find a way to actually use it.

Solas was smiling at her, tiny creases forming at the corners of his storm-colored eyes. The magic had made her feel stronger, capable; the way he was looking at her now had a similar effect. He had such faith in her, more than she had in herself. She marvelled at that. In just a few short months, her worst-enemy-turned-dearest-friend had managed to make her forget about her woes and embrace exciting, new things. Without him, she would never have even had this opportunity. The Dread Wolf had literally brought _magic_ into her life. And even though it was only for a brief moment, the memory of it would last Naia a lifetime.

Her heart was filled with joy as she returned his smile, unwilling to fill the silence with meaningless words. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him, hugging him close.

“ _Ma serannas, ara ghest_.”

He stiffened under her grip on instinct, then relaxed into her embrace as his arms found their way around her back, slowly but firmly. She held on for a moment before letting go, but he caught her hand in his and her body froze. She angled her face towards his, only mere inches away, and they locked eyes. Her heartbeat began to speed up again and she held her breath.

“Tomorrow night,’ he said softly, eyes glimmering. “We can try again, if you’d like.”

“Is that a promise?” she whispered eagerly.

“Naturally.” And just like that, he released her hand and then her mind from the Fade.

 

* * *

 

She slept late that morning, her trip to the Fade having interrupted her natural sleep cycle once more. It would not be long before she needed to sleep again, so that she could meet Comfort and visit the Well. But her mind was wide awake, still excited by the events of the previous night.

A heavy lunch, complete with a glass of wine, helped to calm her mind and facilitate rest. A bad habit to get into, but she had little choice—she needed to get to the Fade again. She was starting to feel like one of the princesses from those shemlen fairy tales, forever asleep from an evil witch’s curse. But if those princesses had dreams which were more fantastic than real life, wouldn’t they choose to stay asleep forever? Why let a prince come along and change all that?

No, a prince would not do for Naia Lavellan. Or a husband, for that matter. Truth be told, she was never entirely fond of the idea of becoming some man’s “little wife.” She’d rather a friend, at the end of the day, with whom to share her life. Somebody she could talk to for hours about all manner of things. Someone who would let her be her true self, never feeling the need to hide. With that sort of friend, she could truly be free.

A small voice in the back of her mind reminded her that Solas was a good friend. And that they were bound to each other, indefinitely—something she had dreaded to learn when she first arrived at this castle. But it wasn’t such a terrible thing. By now, she’d learned to live with it, and it wasn’t so very different from the life she’d always dreamed of, anyhow. It was still a life of adventure, and one that she was able to share with a close friend. And now, looking back on her initial choice to come to the Dread Wolf’s castle, she could truly say she had no regrets.

Naia pondered this as she drifted off to sleep, her mind filled with thoughts of her Beast. She had a smile on her face as she entered the Fade. Comfort was waiting, as usual.

“Hello, _falon_.” Naia greeted her brightly.

“Hello, _da’len_.” The false spirit took Naia’s hands in her own and gave a gentle squeeze. “And how are we feeling today?”

“Fine, thank you,” she responded. Comfort raised her brows.

“I’ll say. You’re practically glowing today. You know, your appearance in the Fade tends to take on a sort of reflection of your inner state. And today you seem healthy and happy, my dear.” She winked, a knowing half-smile gracing her mother’s features.

“I, well, yes. I suppose that’s accurate,” Naia admitted. She hadn’t given much thought to the state of her health lately, actually. Or the state of her heart, even. She supposed happiness had crawled its way inside when she wasn’t looking.

“Come,” Comfort said to her, and they made their way to the Well.

The reflecting waters of the Well brought forth the image of Fen’harel’s castle again. Naia watched the Dread Wolf himself stand before his own eluvian and recite the words that would unlock the passageway leading directly into the Fade.

After stepping through the mirror, he made his way to a small round building with a dome ceiling. It was not the first time Naia had seen this place in the Well. If she recalled correctly, this was the meeting place of the Evanuris once a year, for an event which they called “the gathering.” Indeed, the remainder of the Evanuris sat inside, talking quietly amongst themselves. They fell silent as the Dread Wolf entered.

“Would you look at that? I didn’t think he would show his face today.” The words were said with the tone of an insult, but the so-called god of death was smiling.

“I thought he’d died,” laughed Dirthamen, who was sitting next to his twin.

“Nonsense, brother. Death is my arena. I would have known about it,” Falon’din responded matter-of-factly. Mythal rose from her seat opposite them.

“Well I, for one, am glad to see you, Dread Wolf,” she said, stepping towards him with open arms. She embraced him rather formally. “It has been too long.” She eyed him for a moment before breaking into a half-smile.

“Yes,” he said, returning her grin. “It has.” He pulled away from the would-be goddess and turned toward the others almost animatedly. “Well, then. What did I miss?”

“Nothing. We were waiting for you,” Andruil noted, visibly annoyed.

“Excellent,” Fen’harel said, letting the complaint roll straight off him as he took his seat, swinging his legs over the side of the chair without a care. “I would hate to have interrupted an important discussion. Now we can begin.” The hunting goddess groaned. Naia spotted Ghilan’nain suppressing a giggle.

“Since when are you so eager to get started on these matters?” Elgar’nan eyed him suspiciously.

The Dread Wolf made a show of sitting up straight before placing both hands on either knee and leaning forward intently. “The sooner we get started, the sooner we may leave and thus no longer be subjected to the presence of your face,” he said in a overly jovial manner. He was openly making fun of the All-Father. Naia swore she saw a vein pop out on Elgar'nan forehead. It was almost comical.

“What was that?” he spat.

“Now, Elgar’nan, I know I’ve not been around much lately, but it cannot have been that long since I last saw you. Surely you did not lose your hearing in all that time,” Fen’harel began, his words flowing forth swiftly and effortlessly. Elgar’nan looked furious, but the Dread Wolf seemed to take no note of it, and neither did he give the other man a chance to react. “I simply meant that I cannot stand sitting in the presence of greatness for so long. For your face is truly too wonderful for the rest of us to behold for a prolonged period of time, wouldn’t everyone agree?”

The room went quiet. No one dared disagree with his statement, but neither did they want to hurt Elgar’nan’s pride by agreeing with the Dread Wolf after he’d clearly insulted him. Naia laughed aloud at that. In one short moment, he had completely shifted the blame from him onto everyone else.

Mythal placed a hand on Elgar’nan’s and gave her husband a knowing look. “Fine. Let us begin, already,” he grumbled, clearly not wanting to entertain the Dread Wolf’s antics any longer.

And so they began, slowly at first. Comfort, at this point, simply gave a brief summary of what they were discussing, and Naia found that she hardly needed the translations anymore. There were still plenty of Elvhen words she did not understand, but when placing the ones she did into the correct context, she found that she could interpret whole sentences. It was exciting.

And then it wasn’t anymore. They talked of routine, mundane things. Responsibilities of the Evanuris, Comfort explained. On top of that, the pace of the conversation had begun to pick up, and Naia could hardly keep up with it. “And if you think it’s bad now,” Comfort laughed, “just wait until they get into a heated argument.”

But throughout everything the Evanuris discussed, Naia began to notice a common theme.

“Are they… are they talking of redistributing _magic_?”

Comfort did not miss a beat. “Hmm? Ah, that. Redistributing magic is just another of their many responsibilities,” she offered.

“But I thought all Elvhen could use magic back then. Why would it need redistributing?”

“They were _capable_ of using magic, yes. But that does not mean they had access to such power. Remember, the Evanuris were more powerful than most. They had access to a plethora of magic that the others could only dream of, and they chose to share that magic amongst their kind.”

Naia narrowed her eyes a bit. “ _Chose_ to share…?” she repeated. That would imply that the use of magic itself was entirely dependent on the Evanuris’ generosity. But that couldn’t be right.

“Well, they might have kept it all to themselves, mightn’t they?” Comfort responded casually. “Anyhow, this was just one of the many things they gathered to discuss each year. When to use magic, and where, and how much, and by whom…. A boring job, really, but someone had to do it.”

“Actually, I find it fascinating,” Naia responded. How could one group of people control the entire supply of magic? That was not the way she’d been led to believe that magic worked, and she wanted to get to the bottom of it right now. “Solas told me that magic was my birthright as an Elvhen.”

“Did he now?” the false spirit noted with a half-smile. She was being evasive, but Naia would not have any of it.

“Yes. _Falon_ , how did my people lose their magic? Tell me what you know.” Comfort’s smile faltered as she considered the question, before looking back at Naia with resignation.

“Alright, then. Perhaps it is time you finally learn the truth. Or at least some of it.” _Finally._ She wasn’t letting the truth get away from her this time. “Tell me, _da’len,_ do you know what the source of all magic is?”

“The Fade, of course,” Naia responded. She had learned that just last night, but it was rather obvious to her now.

“What if I told you your people were once connected to the Fade, every one of them? And this connection is what gave them access to magic?” Now they were getting somewhere, Naia thought. It was about time she got some answers. She nodded eagerly for Comfort to continue. “Well, the Evanuris were clever. They discovered how to harness the power of the Fade in a way no one else ever had. They created magically enhanced artifacts, objects that could contain part of the Fade itself.”

“The orbs,” Naia guessed. Comfort nodded.

“The orbs. Nine of them, one for each god. They used these orbs to create literal doorways to the Fade. That is why their eluvians allow them to physically enter the Fade. And these orbs provided them with a near-unlimited supply of magic.”

“Near-unlimited?” she repeated.

“Yes. Although they had access to this power, they still had to share its supply between the nine of them. That is why they gathered in the Fade annually, to make their cases for how much magic they would need for the coming year. You can see now why they might have had their disagreements.” She gestured towards the Well, where all nine of the gods were now out of their seats and arguing heatedly about something. Naia shook her head.

“That still doesn’t answer my original question. How did my people lose their magic?”

Comfort grinned. “We haven’t gotten to that part of the story yet,” she said, much to the young woman's aggravation. "And anyhow, it matters little in the grand picture. There are more important things for you to learn, if you will just wait patiently and watch the story unfold on its own." Naia groaned rather uncharacteristically. Truth be told, she was growing tired of waiting.

“No,” she said, putting her foot down for once. “You tell me _now_.” The false spirit raised her brows.

“Patience, _da’len_ ,” she said. “Good things come to those who wait.”

Naia huffed like an impatient child. “If you won’t budge, that’s fine. I’m asking Solas.”

Comfort laughed loudly. “You’re certainly free to try. That Wolf is incapable of lying and yet even he could not spare the truth about that topic. Not even to the woman he loves. He’s too proud.”

 _We shall see about that_ , Naia thought, choosing to ignore the fact that she’d just been told Solas loved her. It was hardly important at the moment. Really, there were much more pressing matters to consider. So very pressing. She kept telling herself how extremely pressing things were as Comfort wished her luck and sent her off to the waking world.

 

* * *

 

She didn’t look him in the eyes that night when he brought her back to the Fade. Not right away, at least. They simply walked around for a bit, chatting idly, before he asked if she was ready to try magic again.

“No. I mean, yes, I am ready. But I have something I want to ask you first,” she responded, finally meeting his eyes. He watched her expectantly, saying nothing. “Right, then. Could you tell me a bit more about the history of magic for our people?” Not specific enough. “I mean the ending, in particular. H-how did that all happen? And why did the magic go away?” Naia had never in her life been timid when asking questions, but Comfort had actually gotten her worried this one might be rejected.

But Solas only sighed sadly. “Come with me,” he said, and she did just that. She had no idea where he was taking her, and frankly she didn’t understand how he could tell where he was going, anyhow. Every direction looked exactly the same as the other in this place. But then she noticed him glance up at the emerald sky a few times, and figured he must have taught himself a way to tell direction in the hundred years he spent here.

They eventually came to a circular stone platform with nine stone chairs. It was the basis of the very same meeting place for the Evanuris which she had seen in the Well earlier. Why had he brought her here?

As they approached, Solas reshaped the crude stone into fine marble, complete with walls and that familiar dome ceiling. Naia couldn’t resist sitting down in one of the chairs instantly. She wanted to know what it felt like. It was very smooth, but cold and hard and ultimately uncomfortable. No wonder the young Fen’harel despised going to those meetings.

Solas let his fingers caress the arm of one of the seats but did not sit. He turned to her.

“I will try to answer your question, but I can tell you only that which I am permitted to say. There are still parts of this story that are forbidden for me to tell. Do you understand?” Naia nodded. She understood that he was going to leave some things out, whether she liked it or not. But perhaps he still had some of the answers.

“In order to understand the ending, you must first learn the beginning,” he started. “You know that magic comes from the Fade, but what you don’t know is that we were all directly connected to the Fade at one point in time.”

“Yes, I know this part already,” Naia interrupted. “Comfort told me. A long time ago, that is,” she quickly improvised.

“Is that so?” he said with an appraising look, but he did not dwell on it, to Naia’s relief. “In that case, why don’t you tell me what you already know, so that we may move forward from there?” She nodded. He took a seat across the way from her, leaning forward so as to give her his full attention. It was such a drastic difference from the way he used to sit in that chair. She thought back to the scene she’d witnessed in the Well earlier, and the conversation with Comfort that followed.

“In short: we were able to wield magic because we were connected to the Fade once, but not anymore. I want to know how we lost that connection. I also know the gods used magical artifacts to harness the Fade’s power, but that’s about it.” Solas was resting his elbows on his knees, his fingertips meeting each other in front of his chin as he considered her words.

“It seems that your _friend_ left out the most important part of the story,” he began, emphasizing the word _friend_ as if to indicate the exact opposite were true. For all she knew, he was right about that. “This connection to the Fade she spoke of was not something of which our people were even aware. It simply existed since the beginning of time. Magic was always accessible to us, but we did not always know why. Then, one day, nine friends with curious minds and a natural affinity for magic discovered the truth. The Fade you know and see today is a realm of dreams, but it also existed outside of that realm, once. It existed _inside_ of us.” He gave her a moment to absorb this.

“Inside? How could the Fade be _inside_ someone?” Naia asked.

“Once upon a time, our people were each born with a piece of the Fade inside them. It was a part of us, our heritage; the whole of the Fade contained within an entire race of people, and they were not even aware of it. Only the nine of us knew, and we used that knowledge to our advantage. We created the artifacts you mentioned to be vessels in place of our own bodies, nine orbs that could harness and contain massive amounts of power. What this _Comfort_ of yours failed to mention is that we essentially _stole_ the power of the Fade from inside of our own people, without their knowledge. We used our combined magic to transfer all that power into the orbs.”

So that was how it had happened, how the Evanuris had gained their godlike powers and immortality. By stealing it from their own kin. They harnessed all that stolen magic and later redistributed it on their own terms. Of course, they had used that magic to build a beautiful and culturally rich empire, but it still wasn’t right. The history of her people’s deities was even uglier than she’d previously thought.

“So the gods controlled all of the magic, didn’t they? And then what happened? The gods disappeared—and I know you won’t say how—so the magic just disappeared along with them? No one else can use magic now that they’re gone?”

“That is a perfectly logical conclusion to draw. There are other factors, of course. Things that I cannot divulge, as you well know.” She pursed her lips.

“But what of the orbs? What happened to them? I learned that they were made into mirrors. Where are those mirrors now?” she asked. He stood up.

“And that is precisely where the story must come to an end, _da’halla_.” He walked past her as he spoke, and the walls disappeared from around them, leaving them on the stone platform once more. Naia rose and faced him.

“Alright, then. I think it’s time you taught me my birthright, wouldn’t you say?” she asked, catching his eye and winking. “After all, you did steal it from my people. It’s only fair,” she teased. Solas shook his head.

“Are you planning on holding that over my head for a very long time, then?” he asked resignedly, but the corner of his lips curved upward, and she laughed. It felt good to laugh about something so serious, that happened so very long ago--something that was beyond her or anyone’s control by this point, anyhow.

“Only forever, _ara ghest_.”

They settled down, ready to pick up right where they left off the previous night. Naia concentrated until she could hear the song inside of her once more. And this time, knowing the full history and the nature of magic and the Fade, it was all the more real to her. She could now visualize the Fade both without and within her, until she became one with it and it with her. She felt that same thrum of power coming from her core, and this time she embraced it. It spread slowly from her chest outward, a warm, tingling sensation all over and under her skin that reached all the way to the tips of her fingers and toes. Then it seemed to settle in her now outstretched hand, only it wasn’t warm anymore. It was _hot_. She opened her eyes.

There was a tiny ball of _fire_ floating just above her palm. She gasped and jerked her hand back, but the flame only followed her movements before it disappeared altogether, along with her panic. She looked to Solas for explanation, whose expression was something halfway between amusement and pride.

“It would seem as though you are not in need of an instructor, after all,” he said. Naia looked at him incredulously.

“Are you joking? I might have set myself on fire!”

“It would not have been the first time,” he mentioned casually with an amused grin.

“ _You knew about that?_ ” Her thoughts flew back to that night, one of her first spent in the castle, in which she’d mindlessly left an open candle burning by a window with long drapes. There had been no damage done, thankfully, but she had hoped her Beast would remain unaware of the incident.

“Yes. I was outside hunting, at the time,” he explained. “I saw the fire from the window. By the time I got inside, the situation had been handled and Cole assured me that all was well. After I saw for myself that you were unharmed, I thought it best not to bring it up. Not unless you decided you wanted to tell me.”

“That was… thoughtful of you.” She was certainly grateful he hadn’t chosen to say anything then. But he’d hardly known her at the time. Creators, what must he have thought of her? The sheer absurdity of it made her want to laugh, looking back on it now. She covered her mouth to suppress a chuckle, and he shot her a quizzical look.

“I’m sorry. It just occurred to me… Solas, you must have thought me crazy!” she laughed aloud. He chuckled softly.

“I can assure you I did not think you crazy,” he said. “A little careless, perhaps. I suppose, at the time, I did not know _what_ to make of you. You were certainly not what I had expected.”

“And just what were you expecting?” she questioned with a curious grin. He hummed pensively for a moment.

“For one thing, I was expecting someone much younger, not to mention much less brave or full of defiant determination like you. I was in no way prepared to meet a woman filled with so much passion for life and for knowledge, whose overabundance of curiosity is only rivaled by her amazing capacity for kindness.”

She stared at him for a second. “I… don’t know what to say to that. Besides thank you, I suppose. Though I wasn’t really fishing for compliments, you know.”

He smiled politely. “And humble, too.”

“Only in some aspects of my life, trust me,” she assured him. He was making it sound like she was perfect, which could not be further from the truth. “I am plenty capable of pride too, _Monsieur_ _Solas_.”

“I shall keep that in mind, then. Now,” he said, leaning forward and holding out his hand, “Are you ready to rekindle that flame, _da’halla_?” She stared blankly at him.

“I… what?”

“The magic. Care to try again?” he asked. “If you let me, I will do my best to guide you, if I can. I will show you the movements I use when I am casting. I suspect it may assist you in controlling the fire.” Her eyes fell to his outstretched hand and she nodded, taking it.

To her surprise, he pulled her a step closer to him, so that she was standing directly in front of him, with only their hands touching. He let go, then placed both hands on her shoulders before gently turning her around.

“Place your feet shoulder width apart,” he instructed softly from his spot behind her, his hands still on her shoulders. “It will help keep you grounded.” She did as he said. “Now close your eyes again. It will help you to concentrate until you learn to focus on the magic for longer periods of time. This is true especially in the Fade, where you cannot always trust your eyes.”

She shut her eyes and listened for the song again, this time letting it flood her instantly with energy. She could feel it on her fingertips again, but she tried to hold it back this time. It must have worked, because she did not feel any heat like before. She kept her eyes closed like he’d asked, though, remaining focused on what she could _feel_ rather than see.

He dropped one hand from her shoulder, the other trailing down just to the top of her arm. “May I?” he asked, and though she did not know what she was agreeing to, she nodded.

He lifted her arm so that it was outstretched, palm up and parallel to the ground. Then he placed his hand in hers, so that his own palm faced upward as well. “Now if you summon the fire, you’ll only risk hurting me,” he explained in a velvet-soft tone.

 _Sweet-talker_ , she thought, smiling. He certainly had a way of saying exactly the right thing in the right moment. Naia bit her lip, trying to stay focused, but she was a bit dizzy from the high of the magical energy flowing inside her. It was an incredible feeling, and she did not want anything to take that away.

“Keep concentrating on the magic inside of you,” Solas instructed, “but this time, I want you to release some of it. Do not be afraid of it, nor worry about what might happen. Don’t even think. Just let it out.”

Don’t think. It was perhaps the hardest task for her to achieve, but she tried her best to clear her mind and focus. She guided the energy into the tips of her fingers and held it there, but she could feel that it wanted out. Then her hand slowly grew hot again, and she opened her eyes. Tiny sparks were being made just above where Solas’s hand was resting atop hers.

“I’m really doing it,” she proclaimed, suddenly proud of her accomplishment. She wished Deshanna could see her now.

“Very good. Keep that focus, and this time try releasing more energy,” Solas suggested.

She continued to do as he instructed, and before she knew it, Naia was creating fireballs entirely without his aid. With enough focus, she learned she could keep the fire a safe distance from her own skin. Solas beamed proudly as he watched her experiment with her newly acquired skill before extinguishing it.

“The next lesson will be aim,” he explained, “but you must first learn to direct the magic through you on the _inside_. You will begin to feel that there is a constant flow to it, like the current of the ocean. You must learn to predict these movements and stay ahead of it, to rein it in and make it obey you. When you finished casting just now, you may have felt the energy deplete a bit. It requires time to replenish, but it will return to you in very little time as long as you keep guiding it back to you. Try again.”

She tried again, and then again. Each time it grew harder for her to cast, but she was beginning to see what he meant about magic flowing like the ocean. Of course, she’d never actually seen the ocean before, but the way Varric wrote about it made her feel as though she had. The ebb and flow of the magic moved within her just like Varric's wonderfully realistic descriptions of waves on the shore, pulling and pushing in an ever-constant rhythm.

After much trial and error, accompanied by Solas’s saint-like patience, Naia was finally satisfied to believe she’d gotten the hang of it. He'd shown her where to place her feet, how to carefully step and turn her body with and against the flow. It was just like the way she’d seen him move when he cast his magic on that demon, seemingly effortless and near-mesmerizing. Just like a dance. He stood beside her, mirroring her, his steps becoming her steps and his movements her own, until they were perfectly in sync. They even breathed in and out, together. The repetition of the routine made it easier to keep her mind on the magic and nothing else.

Then the dance ended, and she was painfully aware of how close they were standing. If the Fade truly reflected the minds of those who inhabit it, then there was a definite shift in atmosphere that accompanied the shift from a clear and focused mind to a distracted one. For one thing, she should not have been able to feel the heat coming from Solas’ body all of a sudden. Not when that body was technically just an illusion. She took a step away from him.

“Th-thank you,” she said politely, her mind reeling and her body still tingling all over from the high of the magic. He bowed his head slightly as if to say “you’re welcome.”

Naia tried to move again, but her knees felt weak and her head a bit dizzy, so instead she requested they end things there so that she might get some rest in the waking world. Then she welcomed the sweet embrace of a pleasantly dreamless sleep.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello, my dear readers! I've missed you guys. I know it has been a while, about two months actually. Life and work have been crazy hectic, but I think things are finally starting to slow down again. I’m hoping to get the next chapter out by the end of the year, but as usual can't make any promises.  
> Also, I know my AU lore is weird and I’m terrible at describing it, sorry about that. Since this AU has no veil, I needed to create an alternate reason for Solas’ motivations. So if that didn’t confuse you then I hope it made the story a bit more interesting, at least. (I’ve also recently chosen to try my hand at writing without a beta, to force myself to improve my editing skills- so if any of you feel so inclined, a little critical feedback wouldn’t be unwelcome. This chapter is a bit of a mess though and I'm sorry).  
> Anyway I swear this all made sense in my head a year ago! Wow, still can’t believe I’ve been writing this for a year. If you’ve stuck with me that long, thank you so much! You rock. Happy holidays everyone! :)


	19. Chapter Eighteen

 

She begged him to teach her more magic, of course. Not that she’d needed to beg—he was as eager a teacher as she was a student, much to her delight.

An entire week flew by in what felt like no time at all. Every evening following dinner, he brought her into the Fade, and each time she learned to feel and trust and command more and more of the power that lay within her, that had always lain within her, dormant and ready to awaken at the slightest urging. Before long it came to her as easily as breathing, which surprised her more than it did Solas. He reminded her once again that the magic _belonged_ to her, in part. It could no more deny her access than the atmosphere could deny her air.

She did not seek Comfort at all during that time. She simply didn’t feel the need to, and anyway the last time they had spoken, she’d been a bit short with the false spirit she called _falon._  A small part of her felt guilty about that, as if she’d behaved childishly. It was no different from her own behavior as a child, stubborn and impatient; the fact that it was in front of a being who resembled her mother did not help to quell that feeling. But, as always, she found herself subconsciously calling out to her eventually, and like always, Comfort answered the call.

“I had begun to wonder if you were ever coming back,” Comfort greeted her.

“Why is that?” Naia questioned. “You could have brought me here regardless of my will, any time I closed my eyes, right?”

“I could do a great many things that would oppose your intransigent will, my dear. But I would never force my own onto an unwilling recipient.” She said this so plainly and yet with apparent earnest that Naia knew she meant it, that however cryptic and evasive and questionably trustworthy, she was ultimately safe with this unnamed being who wore her mother’s face.

She smiled with ease. “Yes, I think I see that now.”

Comfort looked as if she were about to say something else, perhaps something important. Naia stared expectantly until the false spirit shook her head and smiled back.

Instead of bringing her to the Well straightaway, as with their more recent visits, Comfort seemed content to take her time. Using the young woman’s memories, she once again crafted sights, sounds and smells all around them, this time of the farm in summer.

It was strange. In all the times Comfort had brought her here, she usually conjured images from Naia’s childhood, of a time when her mother still lived. Never the farm. Looking around, she began to see why. The familiar landscape surrounded them, acres of land covered in green and fences that kept the animals from straying; the scent of earth and grass and of hot air, mixed with the mild odor of farm animals blended strangely with the sweet smell of strawberries and honey coming from inside the house. It touched memories she hadn’t entertained in quite some time now, things she had swallowed down in order to focus on the now. So to stand here, just as she had a few short months ago, and to not be with her family… it was a bit disheartening.

She thought of her family, of simpler times, and of the day she left it all behind. Had it really been three whole months since she left? It felt like less time plus an eternity all at once.

“Why here?” she asked. Comfort took her hand.

“You needed it. You try not to think of them too much because it makes you sad. You have accepted that you can never see them again, but every now and then you need a reminder of what you once had. Do not try to push your memories away like a glass of milk that has soured. If you let them, they will bring you comfort and happiness in difficult times.”

She looked down, then forced herself to look around again and imagine for a moment that everything was alright. “Thank you, _falon_ ,” she said to her, because she knew the false spirit was right. She took a seat on the wooden chair her father had built, out on the front porch that overlooked their humble-sized property and, in the distance, the dirt road leading to it. Comfort sat next to her on a stack of small, empty crates that had been placed there as a makeshift stool.

“What about the Well?” Naia asked after sitting in silence for a minute.

“It can wait,” Comfort said, turning towards her casually. “What is going on with you?”

Naia should have been surprised that she genuinely wanted to hear about her week, enough that she would put their precious Well time on hold. But it felt as natural as two friends catching up after some time away, and she found herself relaxing into her seat.

She thought of how to respond. She thought of the magic. Of Solas. She could spend this time telling her everything that had happened, but instead she was content to just say, “Everything is perfect.” Because it really was. Aside from obviously missing her family rather relentlessly, she could otherwise say she was perfectly content with her new life.

Comfort’s brow raised. “Is that so? I had noticed that you and the Wolf are getting along quite well. Tell me, _da’len_ , does he make you happy?”

The question took her by surprise a bit, though the answer did not. “Of course. He is a great friend.” And then she remembered what Comfort had said when they last met. That she was the woman whom Solas _loved_. She looked away and added, firmly, “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Oh, wouldn’t you?” Comfort pried, and though Naia could not see, she swore she could _feel_ the false spirit’s half-smile. When she didn’t respond, Comfort added, “It’s true, you know.”

She turned to face her now. “What is?”

“He does love you.”

And she knew. She always knew in her heart that which her mind refused to believe. She knew it in the way his eyes watched her adoringly, in the private smiles they shared, in the words that went unspoken. But she also knew that she did not want things to become complicated between them, or for their friendship to become compromised. But most of all, she knew that she did not know, at all, how she felt. So she pushed any feelings away until they were just like the memories that upset her, the ones she knew she ought to embrace.

And besides, she reasoned, who could ever learn to love the Beast that held them captive? That truth still hung heavily over the two of them, no matter how close they’d become. What kind of person would she be, if she let something like that happen? It was one thing to offer him her sympathy, her friendship, her help, not to mention all the same courtesies he’d offered her. But romantic feelings were out of the question.

She said nothing for a while, and then, in a small voice, “It changes nothing.”

Comfort frowned.

“No, I suppose it doesn’t. But you… you change everything,” she said. Naia looked at her skeptically.

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“You have the power to change his whole world, if you only knew how.”

Naia shifted. She had suspected something like that were true, but putting it that way made it seem vague and intimidating and impossible.

“I don’t know about all that. I only know that he and the castle are bound by some unseen magic he’s not allowed to talk about. And maybe you’re right. Maybe I can do my part to help change all that, but I barely know anything about magic.” She knew a lot more about magic now that he’d begun to teach her, she reminded herself, but that didn’t mean she understood it. She sighed. “I promised him I would help, if I could. I just feel so… _helpless,_ sometimes. I’ve learned so much in my time here, and yet I feel as though I still know nothing at all.”

“That is not true, _da’len,”_ Comfort reassured her. “You have done nothing but seek knowledge since you arrived. Believe me, knowledge is not the thing you lack most.” She took the younger woman’s hands in her own and met her eyes. “Naia, listen to me. You must learn to trust your heart, for therein lies the key to all the secrets you seek. Trust in your heart, and let it lead you. Do you understand me?”

Trust her heart. That was easier said than done. She wasn’t exactly sure what her heart was telling her.

“Yes. ...I think,” she responded.

Comfort smiled patiently. “One more thing,” she added, smile fading. “Promise me you will tell the Dread Wolf how you feel, eventually. Whatever that may be. He deserves to know the truth.”

Curious, she asked, “What difference does that make to you?”

Comfort shrugged.

“Perhaps very little. Perhaps a great deal. Either way, I should like to see the outcome.”

Another vague answer. How lovely.

“Alright, then. I promise,” Naia conceded, if only to appease the false spirit. She had said _eventually,_ after all, and Naia was particularly good at procrastinating.

 

* * *

 

She asked her Beast that evening at dinner to take her to the Well. She hadn’t gotten the chance earlier with Comfort, and after their little trip to the farm, she figured she ought to check on her family.

Winter should almost be over by now, she surmised. On the farm, that meant all preparations were being made for spring’s return. There would be much to do. If she timed it right, she could catch a glimpse of them just as the day’s events were wrapping up, before they turned in for the night.

He took her to the Fade after supper. The Well instantly revealed the image of her little brother, who was dutifully helping his sisters carry a few heavy-looking bags down the stairs. The bags were overflowing with various garments, and Laleal looked to be struggling while his sisters stood by, watching, not once offering to help. To Naia, it was a ridiculous yet all-too-familiar sight, but also a curious one. Where were they bringing all this baggage, and why?

Laleal reached the ground floor and dropped the bags in a small heap. They must be headed on a trip, Naia reasoned, but she knew it was unlikely, especially during this time of year. Could it be that they were planning to leave the farm for _good?_ But then where could they possibly be headed?

“I really don’t see how you’re going to need all of those dresses, girls,” came the tired voice of her father as he approached.

“But _iovro’bae,_ we want to return in style!” Enasta declared. Return? Return _where?_

“Yes, Father,” Nehna agreed, “It’s been _years_ since we last saw our people. Do you want them to see us in rags?”

 _Our people._ Naia repeated the words over again in her mind _. But that would mean...._

“Of course not, my dears, but we have been outcasts for so long now. What will the others say when two young, barefaced women join Clan Lavellan dressed as proper shemlen ladies?” Sileal replied, confirming Naia’s suspicion. Her family was returning to their clan. But why? Did something happen to change Keeper Anverelan’s mind? Did something happen _to_ Keeper Anverelan?

“They will say we are fabulous,” Nehna responded with glee as she fixed the shiny pearl hairpin that was pinning back her curls. Evidently her sisters had taken full advantage of the Dread Wolf’s donation.

“And besides, we won’t be barefaced for long,” Enasta added. “We are both old enough to receive our vallaslin, now.”

This was all happening so fast, Naia hardly had time to process it. She should be happy, she knew, to see that her family was able to finally return home after so many years. But she had so many questions, so many concerns she wished she could address first. For one thing, she suddenly wanted to protect her sisters from mistakenly branding their faces with slave markings, like she had.

“Well I’m glad _someone’s_ happy,” Laleal chimed in, his face devoid of his usual carefree grin. “I don’t care that we belong with our people. The farm is my home, and I feel like we’re just leaving it behind for no good reason.”

“I am sorry you feel that way, Laleal, but I have made my decision,” their father said. “We are leaving the day after tomorrow, and that is that. Keeper Anverelan has been very generous to welcome us back all of a sudden.”

“Generous!” Naia blurted aloud, huffing in disbelief. “That coward?” Solas eyed her curiously.

“This Anverelan would be the man who replaced the late Keeper of whom you spoke so fondly?” he asked.

“Deshanna, yes,” she confirmed.

“So if I recall the story correctly, he revoked the promises Deshanna initially made to your family, and now it would seem he has changed his mind. He is not a very stable leader, is he?”

“Indeed, he is not,” Naia concurred, frowning. So what had brought about this sudden change?

Laleal had taken a seat on the stairs, his shoulders slumped in defeat at his father’s dismissal.

“I just wish Naia were here,” he said. Her heart sank at that. “I wouldn’t mind so much, if I knew she’d be there.” Guilt settled in the pit of her stomach, and she found herself wishing she were home now more than ever. But she’d found a new home, just like Laleal was about to do. Perhaps he would learn to love it, as she had.

“I know, _ara iovru,_ I know,” Sileal said, sharing his son’s grief. “I cannot bear to think about what might have become of your sister, now that she is the Dread Wolf’s prisoner.”

 _But I’m_ _not his prisoner,_ Naia wanted to shout, despite knowing they could not hear her. She was here because she chose to be. Her family might never understand that, of course, but she wanted them to know it all the same.

“Poor Naia. Who knows what torment she’s going through, and all because she wanted to protect us from that monster!” Enasta sobbed loudly and suddenly. She and Nehna held onto each other, their faces scrunched up in an effort not to cry. The guilt settled in even deeper now as Naia watched the scene play out. Her sisters had a tendency to be rather, well, self-absorbed at times. Naia knew they were capable of showing empathy deep down, of course, but it did not surface often. They were typical children, naturally, only they weren’t children anymore. They had grown up while she was away and now they were shedding actual tears for her. Naia could not stand to watch it.

While she previously had been satisfied to believe her family was coping fine without her, she hadn’t expected them to assume the worst had become of her. The last time she’d checked on them, things had appeared normal on the outside, but it was obvious now that they were emotionally distraught, believing her lost forever to the evils of their most feared enemy. For all they knew, she was being subjected to all sorts of mistreatment and malevolence.

And why shouldn’t they draw such conclusions? Naia had tried to assure them she could take care of herself, but how could she have expected them to believe that when it came to the Dread Wolf?

“If they fear for your wellbeing,” Solas suggested after the scene had ended and he’d listened patiently to her concerns, “then you will just have to put those fears to rest.”

“I would if I could,” she said, frowning. “I just want them to know that I am fine.” _More than fine, in fact_ , she added internally.

“And they will,” he said firmly, meeting her eyes with determination and resolve in his own. “I can promise you that much, _da’halla,_ if nothing else. You will write them a letter, and the halla will deliver it to them tomorrow, before they leave the farm for good.”

“The halla,” she repeated idly as she took in his words, not comprehending the sudden change of heart. “But I thought you said you couldn’t afford to take that risk. You would put the halla in potential danger for me?” Not that she wasn’t grateful for the suggestion, but she thought they’d been over this already.

“I will take any and all precautions, naturally. We will do all we can to assure her safety, but we must act quickly. If your family is to leave the day after tomorrow, then we should send your letter first thing in the morning. You will instruct them to send the halla back to us along with their response as soon as they are able.” Naia’s heart leapt at his words, at the prospect of making contact with her family again after so long. She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling.

“That’s….” Everything, she wanted to say. It was everything she had ever wanted since coming here. For all the happiness she’d come to find while living in this strange place, nothing could make her happier than to finally communicate with her loved ones again. That Solas understood this, and respected it, brought her immense joy.

 _“Ma serannas,”_ she said simply. Then, not wanting to waste any more time, “Let’s return. I have a letter to write.” He nodded in approval, and a moment later she was waking up beside his hulking, wolf-shaped form.

 

* * *

 

Almost as soon as they had returned, Naia went and set quill to paper. Her goal was to set her family’s minds at ease, but how to explain the Dread Wolf to them? They did not know him as she knew him. To them, he was the enemy of her People, the Great Betrayer, the wicked trickster who had sundered their sacred deities from this world, trapping them forever in the Void.

He was the one who had taken her away from them.

But convincing them to view him differently would take far more pages than she had time to write, and so she would just have to be concise. She ended up with the following:

 

_To Father and to Laleal, Enasta, and Nehna,_

  _I am writing to tell you, first, that everything is alright, and there is no need for you to worry about me. I apologize for being unable to reach out sooner. Please believe that I am deeply sorry for causing you any grief in the first place. I only did what I believed was best for you, and I stand by that decision even still._

  _Family, you must know that when I say everything is alright, I truly and sincerely mean it. The Dread Wolf has shown me nothing but kindness since the moment I arrived, and I no longer harbor any ill will towards him. He never once insisted that I keep my promise to marry him, instead treating me as a guest and an equal in his home. If only you knew how wonderful he truly is. He has given me so much, and I have learned much from him, too. I only wish I had time to tell you everything I know. And, of course, I will never forget that because of him, I can know you are living in safety and security. That is the most important thing to me, and I take comfort in that knowledge._

  _I know that we may never see each other again, and it grieves me, but the Dread Wolf has graciously allowed me to contact you by way of the enchanted halla. Please take good care of her while she is there, and make haste in writing your response. Simply tie your letter ‘round her antler and ask her to bring it to me, and she will obey._

  _I do not know when I will be able to send another letter, so do not ask anything that demands a quick response. Instead, tell me everything that I missed these past few months. Leave out no detail. I miss you all quite terribly._

  _All of my love,_

  _Naia_

 

The next morning, Naia took the letter and brought it with her outside, where her Beast was waiting by the shore with the enchanted halla. He watched patiently as Naia scratched the halla under the jaw. It lowered its head for her as she tied the letter to its antler, just as she’d described in the letter.

She paused then, not sure what to say. She didn’t even know if there was something that needed to be said, like the magic words she’d uttered when the halla first carried her here. So, without knowing if the creature could even understand her, she began to speak from her heart.

 _“Falon,”_ she said, “Though I do not know your name (and I promise I’ll keep trying to find it), I would ask for your help in bringing this message to my family. Will you do that for me, please?”

The gentle creature made a short, pleased sound, as if it had understood her perfectly. Naia bowed her head in thanks, and the halla took off at once, a blur of white flying over the lake that was gone in a flash.

She turned to her Beast. “I take it she knows the way, then?”

“She has an excellent memory,” he confirmed. “Your family will receive the letter in a matter of minutes. All that is left to do is wait.”

Naia nodded. She had waited this long to talk to her family; she supposed waiting a little longer would not be too difficult.

 

* * *

 

The day’s events flew by like any other, though Naia was admittedly a bit anxious to see the halla’s return. Morning turned to afternoon, which brought their usual Elvhen lesson. While she forced all of her focus onto her studies, however, she sensed her Beast was distracted by faraway thoughts.

By afternoon’s end, they’d found themselves in their usual spot in the library, enjoying their favorite pastime. Every now and then, Naia had to resist the urge to get up and look out the window as her thoughts slipped away from the book she was reading and onto her family. For the most part, though, she remained content to relax in her place beside her Beast, leaning against him for support.

After a while, though, the words on the pages in front of her began to blur and blend together, and she could no longer sit still. The sun was slowly setting, casting a golden-orange glow upon the bookshelves. Her family would have had time to read her letter a hundred times over, by now. What was going through their minds? And more importantly, why hadn’t they written back yet? She knew, of course, that she must give them time to craft the appropriate response, but there was not much time to spare. Perhaps she should have mentioned that she needed a response by day’s end.

“If you are concerned about your family, I am certain there is a logical reason for the delay,” her Beast’s velvet voice pulled her out of her thoughts. She’d been staring at the same page silently for two minutes. She shut the book with a _thump_.

“Yes, of course. You must be right,” she said with a forced smile that was as much for her sake as it was for his. She needed to remain positive.

Despite the reassurance he’d offered her, however, Naia suspected her Beast was also concerned. Dinner that evening was spent almost entirely in silence, and she could barely touch her food. Neither wanted to say what they were thinking, though it was likely the same thing. Where was the halla? Had something happened?

She set her fork and knife down firmly next to her half-finished plate, then pushed against the table to rise from her seat. The dress she wore tonight had an unusually long, white and gold train that trailed behind her as she walked over to where her Beast sat.

 _“Ara ghest,”_ she called as she came to a halt at his side, resting a hand on the arm of his chair. “There must be a logical reason for the delay,” she repeated his words clearly back to him, offering a reassuring smile. He shook his head.

“I hope that is so, but I must admit my concerns are growing. The day is nearly done, and your family will be leaving on the morrow. I know that you trust your family, and I trust you, _da’halla,”_ he said, meeting her eyes as he spoke her nickname. “That being said, I bear no trust for any outsider who might come across the enchanted halla. I fear her discovery may put her in danger. Your family must return her _now_.” The urgency in his voice as he finished was accompanied by a fire in his crimson eyes that Naia could not ignore. She’d never seen her Beast so unsettled. She could almost feel his anxiety, and she hated it—hated that it was partially her fault.

She reached out a hand and placed it softly against the side of his face. All six eyes closed in response to the contact. He paused briefly, hesitating before letting himself lean fully into the touch. He let out a contented sigh as she rubbed her thumb back and forth against the fur. Then he opened his eyes, and she let her arm fall back to her side.

 _“Ir abelas._ I do not mean to worry you, _da’halla,”_ he said, but she shook her head to indicate that he had done nothing of the sort. “It is getting late. If you wish to retire for the evening, I will stay up and wait—all night if needed.”

The last thing she wanted to do right now was sleep. Especially not while she knew he would be awake and worrying over something she’d inadvertently caused to happen. How could she just leave him like that?

“Thank you, but I want to stay with you,” she said.

He only nodded in response.

They made their way up to the rooftop eventually. That way they would be able to keep an eye on the horizon, and know the second the halla returned. Naia kept her eyes peeled beyond the parapet as she leaned against her Beast’s seated form for support. There was a slight chill in the air that night, and his fur was so ridiculously warm and cozy that she could not help but draw herself closer to him.

The downside of such immense comfort, of course, was the easy lull of sleep that accompanied it. She did her best to fight it off.

“If you’d like, I can wake you when she returns,” her Beast assured her after she'd almost nodded off for the third time.

“I’m not going to fall asleep,” she said, but her words came out a bit slurred and her eyelids were heavy and half-lidded. She could feel the gentle snort of a laugh coming softly from the beast beside her, and that was the last thing she remembered before she was in the Fade.

 

* * *

 

“Why am I here?” she asked Comfort instinctively almost as soon as she’d arrived, but the question came out more annoyed than she meant it to sound. She was irritated that she’d let herself fall asleep, and on top of that, her mind was being denied the proper rest provided by a Fade-free slumber.

Comfort studied her for a second. “I sensed you were distressed about something. I thought you might like to talk about it, so I brought you here.” _Here_ , in this case, referred not just to the Fade but the familiar scene of the forest and a Dalish camp beneath an open, starry sky. A small fire burned nearby, enclosed within a pit, its flames crackling loudly in the crisp night air. Naia took a seat close enough to feel the imaginary warmth against her skin, and gave a tired smile as Comfort joined her.

“I wouldn’t say that I’m _distressed,_ exactly, but I thank you for the concern all the same.”

“Of course. But something _is_ troubling you, is it not?”

Naia pursed her lips. She knew she wasn’t half as concerned about her family right now as Fen’harel was about the halla. The whole situation had him on edge, and she empathized with him. “Something is troubling _him_ ,” she explained.

“And that bothers you,” Comfort stated the obvious. She tilted her head to the side. “Does he know, yet, how deeply you care for him?”

The question caught her briefly off guard, even though they’d discussed this already, last time. “I haven’t exactly had the time,” she dismissed hastily. Now was not the time to talk about her feelings, anyhow.

“That is fair. So what happened?”

“Well,” she began, and she proceeded to tell her all about the situation with her family. She told Comfort of the letter and how the enchanted halla strangely had yet to return. There was a flicker of something in the false spirit’s eyes as she mentioned the halla.

“I see,” said Comfort. “And if your family leaves the farm tomorrow, what becomes of the halla?”

“I don’t know. That’s what has the Dread Wolf worried. That is why we need her to be returned as soon as possible,” she said.

“Well, your family certainly can’t take her with them where they are headed,” Comfort agreed. Naia looked at her.

“You think they would do that?” Was that what the Dread Wolf feared might happen?

“Think about it. Your family is returning to their clan tomorrow. Their very _Dalish_ clan. Imagine the reaction if a Dalish clan were to set their eyes on a real, live halla.”

It was an excellent point. Why would any full-blooded Dalish surrender a sacred, endangered (not to mention _magical)_ animal to _the Dread Wolf?_ If they saw the halla, they would surely hold it hostage, and that is precisely what her Beast must be dreading. But would her family go against her wishes like that? Would they really bring the halla back with them to clan Lavellan?

And what if they already had? What if it was too late?

“No,” Naia said aloud, if only to quiet her own mind. “I won’t believe it until I see it. I trust my family.”

Comfort eyed her hesitantly. “Are you so certain of their intent?”

“What difference does it make?” she dismissed with a shrug. “It won’t do to worry. I can only wait and see what happens now.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Comfort agreed, but she was frowning. Could it be that she was also concerned about the halla? No, that didn’t make any sense to Naia. There must have been something else on Comfort’s mind.

They walked in silence for a minute, until the Well appeared ahead of them. She thought for a moment to check on her family, but then she knew they would be asleep by now, so what was the use? They slowed to a stop in front of the reflective pool, its waters shimmering and ready to tell another tale.

She expected to see the young Fen’harel, as always, but this time he was nowhere to be seen. The Evanuris were present, with the exception of a few key members. In addition to the Dread Wolf, Ghilan’nain, Mythal and Elgar’nan were also notably absent.

They were also, unmistakably, in the Fade, though not in their usual gathering place. They were huddled instead in the raw Fade, beneath a great shadow cast by the giant boulder behind them. Naia got the sense that they were discussing something important that was not meant for anyone else’s ears. Despite being well hidden in the Fade, where no one could follow them, they were talking in whispers. Naia could hardly tell which one of them was speaking at any given time.

“Something must be done,” she heard one of them say. “This is getting out of hand.”

“You are absolutely right. All these slave disappearances cannot be mere coincidence. This is evidence of some greater scheme, and whoever is plotting it must not be allowed to succeed.”

So the Evanuris had grown wise to Fen’harel’s plan, then. Naia hoped they did not suspect his involvement. She listened intently to their conversation, and at first it did not seem as if they even suspected the whole thing to be orchestrated by one of their own. They feared an uprising from the People, not a war amongst their own kind.

At least, that seemed to be the popular theory until Andruil suggested otherwise.

“I think we are forgetting a certain _someone_ amongst us who has been very vocal about her hatred of slavery. ”

She was talking about Ghilan’nain, of course. The youngest goddess had been supporting Fen'harel’s efforts. Naia wasn’t sure if there was any direct involvement on her part, but it did not bode well that she had managed to garner suspicion from the others.

“Ghilan’nain doesn’t have the gall nor the ability to plan something this huge.”

“Not alone, no,” Andruil agreed. “But she could have help.”

“I find that hard to believe. All that girl ever talks about is peace. If she were truly involved, she’d know that her actions would surely lead to war.”

“She could be acting _indirectly,_ then. She may not be dirtying her own hands, but if the slaves are planning something, she might know about it. I am telling you that she has information, and we would be fools to ignore that.”

“Yes, I agree.”

Naia’s stomach clenched. They didn’t seem to suspect Fen’harel at all, but they were certainly correct in that Ghilan’nain knew the truth. That meant they were close to finding out.

“There you have it, then. If we want to get to the bottom of this, we go through her.”

“And what precisely do you propose we do, Andruil?”

“We send in spies, find proof, then expose her to Elgar’nan and Mythal. Let them deal out their judgement from there, putting a stop to this treason once and for all.”

“That is a fair plan. Alright, you have my support and my assistance, should you need it.”

“Mine as well.”

“Here, here.”

The scene faded out, gone in a flash, and Naia was left alone with her thoughts and with Comfort.

“So, did they discover Ghilan’nain to be involved? What happened to her?” Naia wondered aloud. She was genuinely worried about the goddess with whom she’d always felt a connection. The one who’d been keeping Fen’harel’s secret. Could it be that they learned the truth about him from spying on her?

Then the Well brought forth a new scene, the next piece to the puzzle. The same five members of the Evanuris were gathered again, though not in the Fade this time.

“Nothing! It has been _months_ , and no one has been able to find _any_ damning evidence against Ghilan’nain?”

 _Oh good_ , thought Naia. So that answered that question. The goddess of the hunt looked particularly furious about this news.

“No, nor have we been able to discover the location of the escaped slaves.”

“For a moment there, I was convinced the Dread Wolf had been harboring them,” Dirthamen confessed. Naia’s eyes widened at that. “He always led such a private life, and his castle would have been the perfect hiding place, big and empty and isolated on an island only accessible by eluvian.” She let out a breath. So someone _had_ suspected Fen’harel, then. Evidently he’d averted their suspicion, somehow, to her relief.

“That wolf cares for no one but himself. I am not surprised that his castle was found to be completely empty when he was escorted back there. Now the beast will be alone for the rest of his pathetic life.”

 _What did that mean?_ Naia wondered. They had specifically used the words _wolf_ and _beast._ Had Fen’harel already become the beast, then? That would have meant he’d already been doomed to his fate, perpetually confined to his castle. And she still didn’t know how it had happened, or why. It seemed the most crucial part of the story, and it had been skipped over entirely. She felt cheated.

And what had become of the slaves, then? If the castle had been found empty, where had they gone? She hoped this meant they’d escaped safely.

“Of course Fen’harel was never involved,” Andruil continued. “But I am not so ready to believe that Ghilan’nain is still innocent. Who cares if we have solid proof or not? Forget involving Elgar’nan and Mythal. I say we take matters into our own hands.”

“Why are you so convinced of Ghilan’nain’s guilt, Andruil? It’s almost as if you want it to be true.”

“Yes, you’ve always been a bit hostile towards her.”

Andruil? Hostile towards Ghilan’nain? Naia wondered how the Dalish tales had gotten so backward.

“Honestly Andruil, just because she set a few of your trapped animals free….”

“Oh, please. There is more to it than that,” Andruil defended herself. “I think you all know what I mean. She disapproves of most everything we do, while she wastes magic on-on poor peasant children and sick baby animals, of all things!”

There was laughter. “Leave it to you to find fault with that.”

Andruil huffed. “That’s not what I mean. She acts like a saint but she is only putting on a show. She thinks herself morally superior to the rest of us. It’s revolting. Meanwhile, she is persistently useless and weak, and she’s done nothing but hold us back over the centuries.”

“What are you saying, Andruil?”

The goddess smiled mischievously. “Think of the power we could have if we just,” she paused for effect, lowering her voice further, _“rid ourselves of her.”_

Well that took a darker tone than Naia had been expecting.

“...What are you implying?”

“Nothing,” Andruil replied. “I am _stating_ what everyone else has been thinking, but have been far too cowardly to suggest. We should destroy her orb and claim the excess power for ourselves.”

There was silence all around. No one instantly jumped to Ghilan’nain’s defense, nor denied that they had indeed entertained the same, conspiratorial thoughts. They were truly every bit as greedy, selfish and power-hungry as Naia had feared, and Fen’harel had known this all along.

“Have you forgotten?” someone asked, breaking the silence. “The orbs are permanently bound to the eluvians that hold them. And to destroy one eluvian is to destroy them all. We made sure of that when we created them. That way no one can destroy another’s orb without destroying their own in the process. There is no way around that, and you know it.”

“False,” said the hunting goddess plainly. “There is one way that will allow us to separate orb from mirror.”

“...So it’s murder now, is it?”

There was more silence, but again, no one was rushing to counter Andruil’s vile suggestion.

“And how will you explain to our followers that the gods are really mortal, after all? How long after her death before they come for the rest of us, and Elvhenan falls to war and chaos?”

“Stop being dramatic,” said Andruil. “You think I haven’t considered all that? If Ghilan’nain dies then all will see her mortality. So we weave a tale. Ghilan’nain, the demigoddess who was once a mere mortal woman, until I so generously offered her apotheosis. She was never fully divine, and therefore partially mortal, leading to her unfortunate end. There. That was easy, was it not?” Her eyes were alight with misdeed as she explained her clearly premeditated thoughts.

“You’re insane,” someone responded.

“Perhaps she is, but it might actually work,” said another.

“No. Nobody will believe that story.”

“The People will believe anything, given time,” Andruil assured them. “But let us discuss this in greater detail later, in the place where none can follow.”

Not everyone seemed convinced, but they all certainly were invested, now. A seed had been planted. Naia feared for the fate of poor Ghilan’nain.

And then she noticed a peculiar sight. As the Evanuris slowly dispersed, one by one rather than all at once, a shadow in the corner of her eye shifted. Once all five of them had gone, it _moved_. The shadow grew, until it took the shape of a man.

He wore a hooded, dark cloak, underneath which was some form of metallic armor. He was armed with a bow and arrow strapped securely to his back, and upon his angular, pale face he bore the unmistakable markings of Mythal’s vallaslin.

The scene dissipated.

 _Damn it,_ Naia thought. Not only had she missed a vital part of her Beast’s story, but now there was an entirely new plot to kill Ghilan’nain that had her afraid for the goddess’s life. She needed to know what had happened all those years ago. What had become of Fen’harel and Ghilan’nain? How had things gone so horribly wrong?

And who was that man, at the end, the one with Mythal’s vallaslin? Could he have been a spy for Mythal?

Mythal. Naia had almost forgotten about her for a moment. Mythal, the Great Protector, the one who despised injustice more than anything else. Surely she wouldn’t have let anything truly terrible unfold. Surely she would have gone and made things right. Right?

She voiced her feelings to Comfort, who only smiled. “I suspect you shall have all your answers the next time you are here. For now, try not to worry. The story is still not over, not even to this day. And I, for one, believe in happy endings.”

 

* * *

 

She did not sleep well, after that. Between worrying about the halla at present and worrying about Ghilan’nain and Fen’harel in the past, she was practically restless. She woke several times before morning. The Dread Wolf was still acting as her cushion, and he remained wide awake. He glanced at her briefly whenever she stirred, but if he was uncomfortable from their position, he didn’t say anything.

Finally, she sat up just as the dawn was breaking over the horizon.

 _“On dhea,”_ he said to her.

“G’morning,” she managed whilst stifling a yawn, though she could not think of anything good about it. The halla had clearly not returned yet. Not that she’d expected it to, in the middle of the night like that.

Naia reluctantly made her way downstairs and to the dining hall, where her Beast accompanied her without a word. She was tired and not in an especially good mood, but she knew getting some breakfast into her would make things better.

She’d never eaten breakfast with her Beast present before. She piled her plate high with bacon and potatoes and bread, all the bread she could get her hands on. She was suddenly ravenous, and she frankly did not care for modesty in that moment.

The Dread Wolf sat patiently as she ate, saying nothing. She was grateful for the quiet company. When she’d finished, she excused herself so that she could go clean up and prepare for the day.

She spent the morning in the gardens, though it was peculiarly windy outside. Her shawl kept trying to escape from her, so she discarded it after a while.

She kept herself occupied by hunting for elfroot. She knew she’d spotted some growing in one of the gardens, and it was a crucial ingredient for healing salves. She was fortunate as not to have injured herself in any way during her time here, but she wanted to be prepared for anything. Elfroot worked better when dried, and it took days to do that, so she may as well pick some now to keep on hand for emergencies.

She searched the gardens for a long time (all the while keeping an eye out for the halla), but she could not remember where she had seen the elfroot. Finally, just as she was about to give up, it came to her. She hadn’t seen the elfroot growing in any of the gardens, but rather just outside of one. She had naturally avoided checking there because it was the one garden she never entered, the one that had been forbidden. She looked there, and sure enough, she found a handful of elfroot plants sprouting up just outside the locked garden door.

 _I wonder what he could be hiding in there,_ she thought briefly as she knelt down to pick the leaves. It was yet another unsolved mystery to her, and though she’d promised to honor his wish to avoid this garden, she could not help but be curious.

She made her way back inside as the morning ended. There had still been no sign of the halla, and at this point, she could not help but feel that something was terribly wrong. Her Beast appeared to share her concerns, and that afternoon they decided to seek the Well for answers.

 

* * *

 

They fell asleep in the library, and he guided her mind toward the Fade. The Well appeared before them easily, but when they asked to be shown the halla, nothing happened. Or rather, next to nothing. Their reflection had disappeared from the water’s surface, but all they saw instead was a blur of colors, nothing clear. And then nothing at all.

Naia looked to Solas for an explanation. A mild look of panic settled across his features.

“What does this mean?” she asked, but he shook his head.

“I do not know. This is….” he hesitated, looking as though he were struggling to assess his feelings and remain calm. But his stormy eyes were clouded with despair. “This was not supposed to happen,” he said solemnly.

She almost went to reach out a hand towards his face, just as she had done yesterday. ...When they were awake, and he was a big, fluffy wolf. She stopped herself before she could make contact with his skin, her hand instead settling on his arm.

 _“Ir abelas, lethallin.”_ She wanted to comfort him more, but she did not know what would be best in that moment. She could only imagine what he was feeling. He nodded in acknowledgment to her words, but he looked as though his mind were in a million different places. She dropped her hand lower down his arm and gave his wrist a gentle squeeze.

“We should-”

 _“WAKE UP.”_ Naia blinked. A faraway, disembodied voice had finished her thought for her. She and Solas looked at each other, both equally confused, before recognition set in.

“That is Cole’s voice,” he explained. They were being hailed from the waking world.

The next thing Naia knew, she was waking up next to her Beast to find a very persistent Cole quite literally hovering over them.

“Cole, what is the matter?” she asked as she pushed herself slowly off the ground. What had possessed him to wake them so suddenly? He hesitated, looking from her to her Beast, and then back to Naia.

“I thought you should know,” the ghostly boy said, “that we have a visitor.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovely readers, and happy new year to you all! I hope you enjoyed this extra-long chapter, and please forgive me for the cliffhanger. I couldn't resist.
> 
> This chapter was difficult for me to write, for a few reasons. For one, we are nearing the end, and a lot is happening. But also, this part of the story kind of came at an ironic time in my life. I was always planning for Naia’s family to leave the farm, and for her to witness that in the Well. But as I was writing it, I had a distinct sense of deja vu. My dad recently sold his house, the house I grew up in, and it’s been strange watching everything get packed up and moved out so that another family can move in. Not bad, just strange. I lived in that house all my life, and it’ll always be my home, except now I can never go back there again. It’s a bit of a bittersweet experience, so I totally know what Naia is going through.
> 
> Anyway, you can expect the next chapter in about a month, hopefully. Let me know what you thought about this one until then! Cheers:)


	20. Chapter Nineteen

* * *

  
“...A visitor?” Naia repeated. They’d never had a visitor before, and it could only mean that someone had ridden the halla here. Relief washed over her at the knowledge of the halla’s safety. Whoever had brought her back had read her letter. Perhaps her father, then. He probably thought to come to her first, she reasoned, to talk with her. That had to be it. He was going against her wishes, of course, by ignoring what she’d asked in the letter, but that didn’t matter anymore. He was here now, her _Babae_ , and it was all she could do to keep from running outside to meet him.

This time she would get to say goodbye properly.

But what if it wasn’t him? A sinking feeling came over her at the thought. Either way, she could not waste another moment. She glanced at her Beast, meeting those striking red eyes for just a second before rushing straight past him and Cole without a word. She had to see for herself. If it was her father, she needed to be with him already, hugging him as tightly as she could. And if it was not….

She reached the front doors of the castle and hauled them open, running past the gardens without looking back. The halla was waiting just beyond the outer garden wall.

Nearby, a hooded figure was crouched beside the base of a small tree, around which they fastened a thin rope. The other end of said rope was attached to the halla’s neck. It looked uncomfortable; she would have to remove it later. More importantly, the person who was tying the rope was not her father, she realized with dismay. Not unless he’d lost a significant amount of weight since she’d last seen him.

As she neared, the figure stood up and removed their hood, revealing auburn hair that shone in the afternoon sun. A hand brushed the hair away from the front of a pair of green eyes. The brightly colored, vallaslin-covered face in front of her was a familiar one, though clearly a bit aged (or perhaps just tired; she could not say). It was also, unfortunately, an unwelcome one.

“Naia! Thank the gods!”

Keeper Anverelan greeted her warmly with open arms, as if they’d last seen each other only weeks ago and not years. As if they did not have a strained history with one another. Naia kept her distance, and he frowned.

“Is something the matter?” he asked, though clearly he knew the answer. His easygoing and charismatic nature made her only more frustrated at his presence.

What was he even doing here? Surely her family would not have sent him. He must have insisted on coming here himself. Whatever had happened, Anverelan stood before her now, not as her family’s Keeper but as an invader on her turf. She wanted answers, but mostly she just wanted him gone.

Calmly, she asked, “What are you doing here, Anverelan?”

“I’ve come to take you home,” he replied, ever presumptuously.

“This is my home,” she corrected him, “and I am not going anywhere with you.”

He sighed, running a hand through his thick hair. “I thought you might say that. From your letter, it sounded like you had completely lost your mind. At first I thought you were simply deluded, of course, but then I tried to understand where you were coming from. And I do understand now, Naia,” he said, his tone growing softer as he met her eyes. For a second, she thought perhaps they might have a civil conversation before she sent him on his way.

Then again, she was probably hoping for too much.

“You do?” she asked, eyeing him half-skeptically.

“Yes. I understand that the Dread Wolf is manipulating you. That is what he does best, after all. He has you so far deceived that you actually believe your captor, a monstrous _beast,_ is caring and kind!” She began to protest, to say that he had everything completely backwards, but he did not let her get a word in. “He’s blinded you, Naia. If you would just listen to me, let me open your eyes....”

Her blood would boil were it not for her well-practiced temperance. How could he believe her naive enough to let herself be tricked like that, or think her so helpless and foolish and disastrously poor in judgement? To think she was in need of saving, of all things!

“You and I have known each other since we were children, but you just proved you truly don’t know me at all,” she said, shaking her head disapprovingly. “I will say this only once: I am not the one whose eyes need opening. You may want to open your own so you don’t fall off the halla on your way back.”

With that, she grabbed the rope that tied the halla to the tree.

“Wait,” he began, and reached for her arm, but the second his fingers closed around her wrist, he went very still. His eyes were wide as they settled on something behind her. He loosened his grip, and she pulled her arm free.

Loose curls bounced in front of Naia’s eyes as she turned her head. She brushed them out of view to reveal her Beast approaching, slowly and slightly crouched whilst glaring daggers at the young Keeper beside her. She’d never seen him look this way before, so hostile, so… predatory. It was closer to the crude Dalish depictions of the Dread Wolf she’d seen in her childhood, the ones that warned her to be wary of him.

“I believe you were asked to leave,” her Beast said impatiently.

His crimson gaze was intense, but Anverelan’s eyes were fixed on the wolf’s great big mouth, undoubtedly noticing the glimpse of sharp fangs that were unintentionally visible as he spoke. The young man appeared to be nervous, all the confidence he’d worn on his face now absent, and was she imagining things or were his hands _shaking?_ But then he balled them into fists and she couldn’t tell anymore.

“I am not leaving here without Naia,” he said.

“And I told you that I am not leaving,” she reminded him.

“No, but of course you couldn’t do that even if you wanted to. Isn’t that right, _Beast?”_ He turned to face the Dread Wolf, this time visibly less nervous but still tense. Naia stared at him, perplexed. What on earth was he thinking, coming here? What did he hope to achieve?

“There was… a bargain made,” The Dread Wolf explained simply, though he knew well enough that the matter had been anything but simple.

“A bargain Sileal was _tricked_ into making,” Anverelan corrected accusingly. “He told me all about it. He would never have promised his daughter to you in the first place, had he known your identity!”

It would have been a noble stance, coming from anyone other than Anverelan. Why, Naia wondered, was he acting as if he cared all of a sudden?

“A promise is a promise, no matter the circumstance,” the Dread Wolf said coolly, “But then I would not expect you to know much about honoring one. I remember very well the state Naia’s father was in when he arrived at my castle, after you’d turned him away. He was a man in need, he had been promised a place in your clan, and you denied him that. You have no place to criticize me for demanding a simple promise be kept.”

“He’s right,” Naia added proudly before the young Keeper could argue. “Anverelan, listen to me. Whatever you may believe, the Dread Wolf has not been dishonorable in his actions, nor dishonest in his words. I have good reason to trust him, which is more than I can say for you.”

He was quiet for one blissful moment, unable to argue with her point. Then he looked at her and said clearly, “A man, though honest in words, may be dishonest in action. He does not need to tell a lie in order to deceive you.” Debating had always been one of Anverelan’s strong points, unfortunately for her. Naia was prepared to retort, when he continued. “And… I suppose, I, too, have done some dishonorable things for which I need to make amends. I hope you will give me the chance to do so.”

...Was he apologizing? The Anverelan she knew was too stubborn to do something like that. But then, that had been ages ago. Perhaps he’d actually grown since then. And perhaps he truly believed she needed his help now. Why else would he have come?

If that were true, then she would just have to convince him that he was mistaken. Once his conscience was cleared, she would send him away and be done with this whole headache.

Knowing Anverelan, however, that could take hours. She sighed resignedly, already regretting the words that were about to come out of her mouth.

“Fine. Why don’t you come inside, then? We can talk there. Alone.”

“I do not think that is a good idea, _lethallan,”_ her Beast began, stepping between her and the Keeper.

Naia simply pointed to the banner that towered high above them, proudly displaying her personal heraldry.

“This castle belongs to me, too, and we are getting nowhere by standing out here and arguing,” she said. Then, reluctantly, “Won’t you come in, Anverelan?”

Anverelan looked at the banner and then back at her. “But you- I thought….” He paused, composing himself. “That is, if it will appease you, then I will do as you ask.”

She forced a curt smile and a nod. “Good.”

 

* * *

 

Naia led her old rival inside after ensuring that her Beast would stay behind and take care of the halla. Anverelan seemed rather overwhelmed by the vast, ancient castle she called home. She had to stop herself from beaming with pride.

“It’s… so big,” was all he managed to say. Good. She liked the thought of Anverelan rendered speechless.

“Yes. Try to keep up,” she said as she led him down the main hallway and towards the lounge, where they could sit and talk comfortably. It was also close enough to the front entrance so that she could usher him out as soon as she’d had enough of him.

He sat directly across from her, hands resting on his lap, looking mildly apologetic.

“Naia,” he began. She did not let him finish.

“Why did you come here?” she asked for the second time. “Why didn’t my family just send their response like I asked?”

“You won’t like the answer,” he admitted.

Her brow furrowed. “Why is that?”

“Because they never received your letter.”

He was right. She didn’t like that one bit.

“Explain yourself,” she demanded.

He ran a hand through his hair. “There is no excuse, really. I told you already that I have done some dishonorable things, and I will not pretend otherwise.” She shook her head at this, but let him continue; at least he was being honest. “I paid a visit to your family the other day,” he went on. “I was outside, tending to my horse when I saw the halla. I read your letter and yes, I hid it from your family. I did so because I believed it was best for them. I made a decision, as their Keeper.”

“Their Keeper,” Naia repeated. “Is that what you are?” She knew, of course, that it was true as of recently. But it was a title Anverelan had yet to earn, as far as she was concerned.

“Yes. The reason for my visit was to make amends. I realized the error of my ways and I went to your father to ask his forgiveness and to welcome him back to Clan Lavellan.”

Admitting he was wrong and asking forgiveness? Perhaps being a Keeper had changed Anverelan into a decent person after all. Not that Naia could say she was impressed—simply pleasantly surprised.

“You can imagine my shock and despair when I learned that you had been taken by the Dread Wolf,” he continued, “and forced to be his bride.”

“Oh, naturally,” Naia said, folding her arms over her chest. “After all, it wasn’t that long since you demanded I become your bride, too.”

“That… was a mistake,” he confessed. “It was not right for me to demand anything from you in exchange for simply doing my duty as a Keeper. I see that now.”

She frowned. “I’m not entirely convinced you do. Anyway, it doesn’t matter now. You’re letting my family return, and that is the important thing. But I still don’t understand why you kept my letter from them.”

He shook his head sadly. “You didn’t see them. They were still heartbroken over losing you. Your letter would have only devastated them further,” he said. Except she _had_ seen them, and the whole reason she’d written the letter was to console them. Thanks to Anverelan, she may never get that chance again.

“That is unacceptable,” she stated. “You had no right to make that call.”

“Naia, you weren’t there. After you left them, they didn’t know what had become of you. They feared the worst, and I’m afraid I only confirmed those fears during my visit. I had time to sit down and talk with your family, just before your letter arrived.” His tone became grim as he continued, “I told them the truth about this castle, and what _really_ goes on here….”

Tentatively, she asked, “What do you mean?”

“Your letter proved your ignorance of the truth, and so naturally I couldn’t let your family know that you had succumbed to the Dread Wolf’s deceit. I knew then that my only option was to find you myself and to help you see reason.” He leaned forward in his seat, lowering his voice just so. “You see, I know what that Beast is hiding from you.”

His expression was so grave that she almost believed he was telling the truth. Almost.

“And what is that?” she asked skeptically.

“You may not see it yet, but you are actually in grave danger.”

She let out a quick snort.

“I very much doubt that,” she said, but Anverelan’s expression remained serious.

“Whether you believe it or not, you deserve to know. I didn’t believe it myself, when I first heard the tale. It was a few months ago, at a gathering of Keepers from several nearby clans. One of the clans used to live here in the Orlesian woods, no more than a few generations ago. Their Keeper says they lived near a lake, and on the other side was a massive castle. He claims the Dread Wolf himself inhabited that castle, and twice a century he would demand they send him a sacrifice in the form of a bride. Eventually they fled the area altogether, but not before losing many a young maiden to the Dread Wolf’s treachery.”

Naia raised a heavily skeptic brow. “It sounds like a folk tale,” she dismissed. “If there was a clan living on the other side of this lake, it is not hard to imagine they would come up with stories about this castle. It is but a legend, and nothing more.”

“That is what I thought, until your father told me what had become of you. Naia, don’t you see? You are the sacrifice, the Dread Wolf’s bride. Nobody knows the fate of those young girls; they were never seen again. Then you came to this castle to wed the Dread Wolf, knowing that no one would see you again!”

“You cannot be serious,” she said, growing steadily impatient. “If _you_ hadn’t interfered, my family would be in contact with me _right now._ They’d know I was alright!”

“You didn’t let me finish the story. These girls, these brides…. Rumor has it the Dread Wolf killed them and buried their bodies out in the castle gardens. Naia,” he said, lowering his voice even further, _“I think you might be his next victim.”_

He was trying to intimidate her. He couldn’t possibly believe his own, far-fetched tale, could he?

“That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” she said plainly. “Trust me, I am no victim. And anyhow, you’re forgetting one very important detail: I am not married to the Dread Wolf.”

“You might not be the Dread Wolf’s _wife,_ but you are still his bride,” he said matter-of-factly.

What?

“Now you aren’t making any sense at all,” she declared.

“Think about it,” Anverelan said. “A bride is a woman who is promised to a man forever. She is preparing to wed that man, but is not yet married. You may not be married to the Dread Wolf, but you were promised to him. You live under his roof and he is the only man—or _Beast—_ in your life, now and for the rest of your life. However long that may be…. Whether you like it or not, Naia, you are indeterminately and inescapably _the bride of Fen’harel.”_

Naia was speechless for a while. Then, all of a sudden, a laugh escaped her, breaking the mood. It was so absurd, the idea that she might have been the Dread Wolf’s bride all this time and didn’t even know it. The theory was sound enough, she supposed, but there was simply no way it could be true. It was the most ludicrous thing she could think of, and so she laughed some more.

“I am sorry,” she said after wiping the tears that had formed at the corners of her eyes, “but you must understand, you’ve been completely mistaken about everything so far. ...I suppose I appreciate the concern, Anverelan, but you must admit you are being a tad dramatic about all this. And I can assure you that I am in no danger at all, honestly. So there is no need for you to stay here.” She stood, prepared to escort him out. “Please give my family the letter if you still have it, and tell them you saw for yourself that I am perfectly safe. Can you do that for me?”

“What? No,” Anverelan said, standing and crossing the room. “Naia, I just told you the Dread Wolf has a long history of killing his brides, and you’re one of them.” Green eyes were wide and pleading as he took her hands in his. They were oddly cold, and she wished he’d just _leave already,_ but she waited for him to say his piece. “Please, if you have any sense of self preservation, you must come with me. I know the Beast won’t let you go, but I thought perhaps I could bargain with him. He likes bargains, right?”

Gently, she removed his hands from hers. “Was that your big plan? To come here and bargain with the Dread Wolf for my freedom?” she asked.

He folded his arms over his chest. “Well, I wasn’t exactly prepared to fight him. I am many things, Naia, but a fool is not one of them.”

Naia raised a brow. There was a difference between wit and wisdom, and she wouldn’t exactly call bargaining with the Dread Wolf _wise._ What exactly was he planning on using for leverage, anyhow? Of course, what Anverelan lacked in physical prowess he made up for in wittiness, but if he thought to outwit the Trickster himself, then he most definitely was a fool.

Shaking her head, Naia sat back down. “You seem to have noble intentions; I’ll give you that. But I am telling you that you have nothing to worry about whatsoever. I am not the Dread Wolf’s bride, and he is not going to kill me. I promise.”

He took a seat next to her, looking defeated. “Then I do not know what else to tell you. You won’t believe me, but what if I’m right? Have you thought about that?”

She sighed. And here he’d accused _her_ of being deluded. Might as well play along and set his mind at ease. “If you were right,” she said, “then I would be dead by now, wouldn’t I? What purpose would my supposed killer have to keep me alive this long?”

“I don’t know,” he responded, shrugging. “For his own amusement, probably. As soon as he bores of you, he’ll rid himself of you. Who knows how much time you have left?”

“I do,” she said with confidence. “I know he is not a killer, because I know his heart.” She smiled despite herself. She was very familiar with—and very fond of—that heart.

“But you don’t know that. You don’t know what happened to his brides.”

“What brides? If any other women lived here in the past, I think I would have learned about it by now.” She’d learned a lot of things during her stay here, so she was confident enough to say that. And anyhow, the Dread Wolf had made it clear from the first day that he would not force her to marry him, nor to even so much as interact with him outside of dinnertime. So it stood to reason that even if he had brought a woman or two to his castle in the past (which was entirely possible), he was still neither abusive nor violent. No, there were no brides and there were certainly no dead bodies buried in the castle gardens.

‘Then ask him about it,” Anverelan countered. “If you are so certain, go and ask what became of the Dread Wolf’s brides.”

“If they even existed,” she added.

“But you’ll ask, won’t you? See for yourself how he reacts?”

She groaned inwardly. “Fine, if it will get you to leave. But then you really must go.”

“I won’t leave you here with him,” he objected. “You may trust him, but I don’t.”

She stared him down. “You’re not my Keeper.”

The words were not intended to hurt, but there was a sudden sadness in his eyes that she had not anticipated.

“No, I’m not. And I don’t want to be.” He ran a hand through his hair. She hadn’t noticed just how tired he looked until now. There were even circles forming under his eyes. “Being a Keeper is far more challenging than I could have imagined,” he admitted. “...It would be nice to have someone at my side.”

“...You mean someone like me,” she said, finishing his unspoken thoughts. She should have known this subject would come up eventually.

He hesitated.

“I miss you, Naia.”

No, he didn’t. He didn’t know what it was like to miss someone the way she did.

“Do you know what I think?” she began, steadily. “I think you miss how you feel when I’m around. I don’t think this has anything to do with me at all.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then, “I miss what we had together.”

What they’d had together was entirely subjective, of course.

“You and I had a good friendship, when we were children,” she reminded him. “Maybe a bit of a healthy rivalry, too. But as we got older, none of that changed. At least not for me,” she said assuredly. Anything beyond that friendship was completely imagined on his part. She’d believed it then, and she stood by it still. “I’m sorry if you felt differently.”

“And whose fault is that? When you first rejected me all those years ago, you told me it was because of family and duty. But you didn’t actually deny having feelings for me. You gave me false hope, Naia,” he accused.

No. None of that had been her fault.

“I was just trying to spare you any pain or embarrassment,” she explained.

“Except you only made it worse! I still believed we could be together after that, if only in secret, but when I came to you baring my heart, you crushed it. I used to think you were the most kindhearted person I knew. Then I learned that you don’t really care about anybody else’s feelings. Not truly.”

She shook her head. How could it have been her fault if he’d had feelings for her that she did not reciprocate? She couldn’t be held responsible for that. Right?

Then again, perhaps she _had_ led him on, if unintentionally. Perhaps she was partly to blame. But at the time, she’d been so certain she was doing the right thing. Hadn’t she always made the right choices? Hadn’t she always been the responsible one, the good one?

And what about _her_ feelings? Before that incident, she’d considered Anverelan a friend and a confidant, even. She’d trusted him. But he didn’t want her trust, or her friendship, in the end. There had only been one thing he was after, after all. That had been a new and painful experience for Naia, losing a friend.

And then, of course, he’d exacted his revenge, years later. Anverelan had turned her family away in their time of need. No, there was no reason for Naia to feel guilty. _He_ was the one who had made the wrong choices.

She met his accusatory glare. “If I am so coldhearted, then why did you ask to marry me three months ago?” she challenged.

He lowered his head, running both hands through his hair this time and then looking up at her through his eyelashes. “Because after all this time,” he said, his voice full of raw sincerity, “you are still the only one who truly understands me. And I don’t care if you really love me or not. I just… don’t want to be alone anymore.”

Oh. That was certainly not the answer she’d expected. But then, she could not give him the answer he wanted. She met his eyes with a sympathetic look.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said. “But you know that a Keeper is married to the People. If you’re so lonely, why don’t you prepare someone to take your place and then find yourself a wife?”

“Who’d want to marry an ex-Keeper? A failure to his people?”

Naia regarded him patiently. She was having a hard time resenting the man when he looked so pitiful.

How had they arrived here? This proud, arrogant man from her past was sitting beside her now, baring his soul. Vulnerable. Should she be comforting him? He didn’t deserve it. And yet, who else was going to tell him what he needed to hear?

She took a deep breath, setting aside her personal feelings for a moment.

“You are only a failure if you allow yourself to be one, Anverelan. So don’t allow it. You can take control of your own destiny. You’re resourceful, and clever, and you’ll think of something. I know you will.”

 _Take control of your destiny._ It was the best advice she had to give, because that was what she had done when she made the choice to come to this castle.

“That’s…. Thank you,” he said; then, after a pause, “I should never have turned your Father away.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” she agreed. “Although, if you hadn’t done that, my father might never have made a bargain with the Dread Wolf.” She smiled to herself at the realization. “Perhaps I should be thanking you. You’ve indirectly brought about the greatest adventure of my life, with one of the best friends I’ve ever known.”

Anverelan shot her a look of disgust, breaking the mood. “You are so eager to call him _friend,”_ he spat.

“But that’s what he is to me,” she contended, her voice growing weary with all the arguing. “I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true.”

“He is your captor, Naia. I’m concerned about the level of affection you have for him. It’s not normal.”

“Nothing about this is normal,” she stated. “I live in an enchanted castle with a giant wolf-god, for a start. There are things here that are beyond your understanding, things that even I don’t understand.”

“That is precisely my point,” he argued, raising his voice as though she were a child to be scolded. “You are in over your head. You don’t understand the danger you’re in.”

So they were back to this again.

“I can’t listen to this anymore,” she declared, standing. He followed, maneuvering himself between her and the door. “Please get out of my way,” she said, hardly able to mask her frustration. When he refused to move, she pushed gently past him.

“Come now, Naia. Don’t walk away from me,” he called after her, following as she made her way down the main hall.

“I am not walking away from you. I am escorting you outside,” she explained.

He stopped in his tracks. She kept going.

“Of course,” she said smugly, raising her voice as she grew farther away, “if you want to stay here in this big empty castle, all alone with the _ghost,_ you’re welcome to _be my guest.”_

He was at her side again in a moment.

“There’s a _ghost?”_ he asked, bewildered; then, “Of course, there is no such thing as ghosts. Don’t be ridiculous.” But he continued following her until she was at the front doors.

She opened them and stood there expectantly. He didn’t budge.

“I told you I am not leaving without you. I promised your family that I would bring you back, safe and sound.”

“I _am_ safe and sound, thank you very much.”

He sighed. “At least ask the Dread Wolf about his brides, then. You promised you would,” he reminded her.

She had promised, and it was becoming apparent that the sooner she kept it, the sooner he would be gone.

“All right,” she conceded, “Let us go and ask him, then.” She turned to go back inside, but Anverelan hesitated, looking between her and the open doorway.

“Actually, I was thinking of staying out here,” he said. This time his hands were definitely shaking. He ran them quickly through his hair. “If you don’t mind, that is.”

Was he nervous? Perhaps he was afraid of the ghost. Or perhaps he was just afraid of the Dread Wolf.

“Fine, do as you wish. I will ask your question, and then I will meet you outside once I am done. Be prepared to leave after that,” she declared.

He nodded and headed outside without a word. Naia closed the doors behind him as he wandered off into the gardens.

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, grateful for a minute alone. Then she set off to find her Beast.

 

* * *

 

She found him in the courtyard with the enchanted halla. Naia smiled at them as she approached. She was happy to see the halla safe and home at last. The creature evidently felt the same, as it nudged her hand the second Naia had extended it.

“Hello, _falon._ I’ve missed you,” she said softly. The halla hummed contentedly as she scratched it beneath the jaw. “And I’m so sorry for letting Anverelan kidnap you. I promise it won’t happen again. Only, you’ll need to take him home, later.” She felt bad about that. She could not explain why, but the halla was more than just a creature to her, just as her Beast was more than a beast. So she hated to use it for her own purposes. If only there was some way to repay her….

“Oh! I know, I’ll make it up to you by finding your name,” she declared. She hummed pensively. “Perhaps I’ll find the answer somewhere in the library….” She would have to increase the amount of time she spent there, then. She had noticed a few rare and obscure books on magic that she’d set aside for future research. Maybe one of them possessed a chapter on magical creatures. She turned to her Beast. “What do you thin _k, ara ghest?”_

The corners of his mouth lifted. “I think it is worth a try,” he said. Then, “What has become of the Keeper?”

“He is waiting outside, ready to leave after I return with the halla,” she replied, biting her lip. _After asking the question._ She thought of what she was about to ask, imagined saying it aloud. It seemed so ridiculous, and yet so simple. It was all she needed to do in order to get Anverelan to leave. So why was she having trouble speaking?

He took a step toward her. “Is something the matter?”

She shook her head. “There’s something I need to ask you,” she said.

“Yes?”

“It’s, ah, it’s nothing important. Just something that Anverelan brought up.” He nodded patiently, and she continued. _“Ara ghest,_ has anyone else ever lived here, with you? Before I came around?”

His expression was unreadable. His tone even more so. “Why do you ask?”

Suddenly she wanted to disappear. It was a silly question, and for once in her life, she found herself wishing she _didn’t_ know the answer.

“No reason, really. In fact, forget I said anything at all,” she quickly amended. Because it didn’t matter. _That_ was why she didn’t want to ask. The answer did not matter, because she already knew. She knew that the stories about her Beast were simply not true. And she did not need to prove anything to that man.

Her Beast eyed her curiously. “Are you certain?” he asked.

She was finding herself less and less certain of everything, these days. And she had promised to ask Anverelan’s question, after all. Not that she owed him anything. But if there was really anything her Beast was hiding, why shouldn’t he be the one to come out and say it?

Hesitating, she said, “That depends.”

“On?”

“...On if you have anything to hide,” she said quietly. His crimson eyes did not blink as he regarded her carefully.

“You are free to ask me anything you like, _lethallan._ You always have been,” he reminded her patiently. “Though, once again, I cannot always promise an answer for every question.”

“Right,” she responded. They’d been over this before.

Naia shook her head. Why was she behaving so strangely? Here she was, agonizing over interrogating her Beast, when she had no desire to do so in the first place! This was Anverelan’s question to ask; let him be the one to ask it.

Her fingers curled gently around the base of the halla’s antler.

“Will you come with me?” she asked, eyeing the gentle creature. “Both of you,” she added.

Her Beast nodded while the halla bowed its head ever so slightly. Then Naia led the way back through the castle determinedly to see to their unwelcome guest one last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my dear readers! Sorry this took forever. I’ve been busy with moving into my new apartment, and work has been mad hectic D: But writing this chapter helped me escape the madness for a little bit :D I’m looking forward to your reactions, as always. You’ve finally met my own version of “Gaston.” But this time he is neither boorish nor brainless; I actually decided to make him intelligent. The trouble is, intellect can be used for both good and for ill. What do you think? You’ll learn a little more about Anverelan in the next chapter. I actually planned this chapter to be much longer but I needed to cut it off, sadly.
> 
> By the way, who else saw the new Beauty and the Beast movie?? I thought it was great. I mean it doesn’t beat the original but it brought the magical world of my childhood to life, so that made me really happy. I’ve been singing the songs to myself as I write this fic. ”Evermore” makes me cry, thinking about things from the Beast’s POV T.T Helpful hint: do not think about Solas when you listen to that song, mmkay?
> 
> Also, any personality typing fans out there? I didn’t originally plan on Naia being quite so much like my own type (INFJ). I was leaning more towards INFP (like Disney’s Belle). But I feel like the INFJ just came right out in this chapter. I guess the saying “write what you know” would apply here. I can’t say there are any Anverelans in my life, thankfully, but I have had some similar-ish experience that inspired the interaction in this chapter.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for sticking around! It’s been a long winter, but spring is finally here, much like the end of this story will soon be. Not in the next few chapters, but it’s planned out and will be here before you know it.  
> Til next time!


	21. Chapter Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi all. Just a quick warning: you may have noticed I added a tag for drug addiction. It’s been mentioned before in the story but it comes up again in this chapter. This is a serious, real-life issue and I want to be sure I do my best to present it in a sensitive manner, even if it’s only a ~magical~ drug with ~magical~ remedies being used to counter its side effects. If anyone has any concerns, please let me know.

 

They left the halla waiting at the entrance to the gardens as Naia and her Beast began to look for Keeper Anverelan. Before long, they found the nuisance of a man crouched low to the ground in a corner of some hedges. He seemed like he was attempting to stand but something had stopped him, causing him to freeze in place. His face was pale and his entire body was shaking. Naia ran towards him to see what was the matter, but he just stayed put, staring straight ahead without blinking.

Across the way stood Cole, clutching a few sprigs of elfroot in his hand and looking perplexed.

“I was just trying to help,” the ghost boy said. “He was looking for _bones,_ but it’s the _leaves_ he needs. He wouldn’t listen.”

“I don’t believe our visitor was quite expecting to see you, Cole,” Naia said patiently to the spirit before turning to her old rival. “Anverelan, it’s alright. Nothing to be afraid of.”

At the sound of her voice, Anverelan seemed to snap out of it. He looked at Naia. “I-it just came through the-the hedges, without a sound! Not out of them, _through_ them! Like they were made of...of air!”

“Yes, Cole does that sometimes. What were you doing, anyway?” she asked, but then her eyes found the door to the forbidden garden directly behind Cole and narrowed. _Looking for bones_ , Cole had said.

“Nothing,” Anverelan insisted rather aggressively. He began to push himself off the ground, but then he lost his footing and staggered. Naia instinctively reached out to break his fall. Once she had steadied him, he pulled away from her sharply, causing him to lose his footing a second time before catching and righting himself.

She almost asked _are you drunk?_ But then she halted as she took in his appearance fully. His breathing was shallow; something was not right. Something had been wrong since the moment Anverelan arrived, but she didn’t put the signs together until now. The shaking hands, the dark circles under his eyes, his cold, slightly clammy touch.

Naia was all too familiar with these signs, and Anverelan was far too coherent to simply be ill. She’d seen these exact symptoms many times in her father. They were the very same he’d succumbed to when he stopped taking lyrium all those years ago. If her instincts were right, then Anverelan had been taking some similarly potent substance, the absence of which was making him weak.

Her father’s addiction and subsequent recovery had been a trying time for her family, but she’d lovingly and patiently stood by his side during it. Yet here, with Anverelan, all she could think was _if it’s lyrium he’s been taking, I’ll kill him myself._

But she didn’t know that, not yet. She shook the wild thought from her mind.

“Anverelan, you’re not well. I think you ought to come back inside,” she suggested. He looked like he was about to argue, then thought better of it and nodded.

Her Beast eyed the other man warily, taking in the shallow breaths and tired expression.

“What precisely is the matter with him?” he asked.

“I have an idea or two, but we can discuss that later. For now, it’s best if Anverelan lies down. He can leave once he is more well-rested.”

“He was sneaking around in my gardens, _lethallan._ Do you think it wise to allow him the chance to do the same inside?” her Beast countered.

“I know exactly what he was trying to do,” she responded. He was trying to find proof that her Beast was some kind of killer. He’d stumbled upon the locked garden and he might have found a way inside, had Cole not intervened. Truthfully, a small part of Naia was disappointed that he hadn’t succeeded. But she did not have time to dwell on where that had come from.

“He needs help,” she said. “If I have to watch over him the entire time, then so be it, but luckily I have some medicine that should strengthen him.” She thought of the elfroot she’d picked just that morning. It was not dried, but it would do. “If my guess is right, he should be on his feet again in just a few short hours. I know this is not ideal, _ara ghest,_ but Anverelan would not have come here if it weren’t for me. I should make certain, at the very least, that he returns safely home.” She thought back to earlier that afternoon, when she’d warned Anverelan not to fall off the halla. In his current state, that could very well happen, and she wouldn’t be held responsible for that.

 

* * *

 

Elfroot and fresh embrium petals were the key ingredients in the powerful concoction Naia was putting together. Some hot water and a lump of sugar later, she had herself a cup of tea that was sure to magically ease any unwanted symptoms. She tied an apron around her waist and threw the extra, unused ingredients into a sack, placing them in her front pocket. Then she met the Dread Wolf and her childhood rival in the guest room upstairs where she had left them.

Anverelan said very little as he sipped his tea, but he managed a weak “thank you.” He seemed uncomfortable with the Dread Wolf there, staring at him, so Naia asked her Beast politely to leave the room for a bit, to which he tentatively agreed.

After he had gone, she thought perhaps the Keeper would bombard her with more of the same argument from earlier, but he seemed to have exhausted all of his energy already. He was blessedly silent as she thought about what to say. She wanted to come out and ask him plain if he’d been using lyrium, but she didn’t get much of a chance to say anything at all, for he was asleep moments later. She’d forgotten the impact of taking a mixture of elfroot and embrium internally, even diluted as it was.

Naia herself nearly fell asleep a few times out of boredom as she waited by Anverelan’s side. Thankfully, her Beast returned to check in on them after a little while.

“I see that you finally found a way to keep him quiet,” he jested. Naia chuckled despite herself. She knew they shouldn’t make light of the situation, but she could not help it.

"Yes, well, perhaps under better circumstances I would be able to actually enjoy the silence,” she said.

“Of course. I trust the circumstance is not too dire, from the way you addressed it earlier. Have you determined the cause of this sudden spell?” he asked.

She hummed affirmatively. “My guess is that Anverelan has been consuming a potent and addicting drug. The symptoms he is experiencing result from sudden disuse of the substance,” she explained. “...I witnessed the same exact thing with my father, years ago,” she added, as if she needed to justify her knowledge on that subject.

He nodded. “I see.”

“Luckily for Anverelan, he will survive. Right now he just needs rest. But if my suspicions are correct,” she said, thinking again of the lyrium, “then hopefully he has not gotten himself in too deep. If not, if this has been going on for quite some time, then he will need more help than I can provide. I will talk to him about that, once he wakes up.”

“And how are you doing?” he asked.

Naia's brow raised. She wasn’t expecting him to ask about her.

“I’m fine,” she answered. “I’ve been through this before. Maybe… maybe it’s a good thing Anverelan came here. Who knows what might have happened, otherwise?” she asked. She didn’t even know if Anverelan had anyone back home in which to confide. “My family was very fortunate, I think,” she continued, “because we had the farm. It was a fresh start, a place where my father could recover and not be tempted to regress. In the end, I actually believe Deshanna did the right thing in sending us away.”

“Keeper Deshanna seems to have been very wise,” he commented.

 Naia smiled. “She was a great teacher, but even long before she taught me, she was a good friend to my family. She was always fair and just but also caring and kind to anyone she met, even outsiders.” Her eyes fell on the sleeping Keeper who had taken Deshanna’s place. A man who had been taught by her and yet seemed to retain almost nothing of those teachings. “Which is why, I suppose,” she continued, “I am still so surprised by the way Anverelan behaves, so thoughtless and selfish.... Deshanna was his teacher, too. She practically raised him, in fact. And yet, he turned out to be nothing like her.”

“That is most curious,” the Dread Wolf agreed. “I wonder how he came to be this way.”

“Well, it isn’t a complete mystery. He did have a bit of a troubled past, as a matter of fact,” Naia explained.

“Oh?”

"Yes," she said. "You see, Anverelan’s father was a shemlen. His mother ran away from her clan to be with him, but after she became pregnant, he abandoned her. When she tried to return to her clan, they refused to take her in, saying she had brought them great shame. That is when Keeper Deshanna found her. She took the young woman in and treated her like family. After Anverelan was born, Deshanna was like a second mother to him, taking him under her wing. But Anverelan had a difficult childhood. None of the other children wanted to play with him. They all teased him for being different because he was only half-Dalish. Well, all except for one other child.”

“That would, of course, be you,” her Beast suggested.

“Right. I showed Anverelan kindness, and he was appreciative of that, but I always had the feeling that it was never enough for him. He had stored up a lot of bitterness in his heart, and he always felt he had something to prove, even after we grew up and the childish teasing stopped. That was why he wanted to be Keeper one day. Not to study and preserve the traditions of our people, but to finally gain the respect of our clan. Deshanna knew his heart was in the wrong place, but he always denied it. And when Deshanna made me her First and Anverelan her Second, he became even more bitter. He felt that he was being treated as an inferior because of his blood. But his feud was with Deshanna, and not me. He never took out his anger on me. He knew better than risk losing his only friend. Or so I thought.”

“That is when he pursued you romantically, I take it?”

She exhaled slowly. She had previously given her Beast a very condensed version of that tale, not wanting to dwell on it. “Yes. And as you know, he did not take the rejection well.”

“Ah, yes. Perhaps he mistakenly believed you owed him something.”

“Anverelan believes the whole _world_ owes him something. And though it is far from true, you can see now why he is like this, can’t you?”

“Certainly. It cannot have been easy, being a child of two worlds,” he reasoned. “It presents no excuse, however, for his behavior.”

“No, of course not,” Naia agreed.

The Dread Wolf nodded, and studied the sleeping man for a moment.

“There is one other thing I am still curious about,” he said.

“What would that be?” she asked.

“What is it the Keeper has been pressuring you to to ask of me, this subject that makes you so uncomfortable?”

Right. That.

“You noticed that, did you?” she asked, nervously tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

He grinned. “You forget how perceptive I am. You told me earlier that you wanted to ask me something, and then you proceeded to do nothing of the sort. When you mentioned the Keeper, I naturally assumed he had put you up to this task. So tell me: what is this regarding?” She sighed, shoulders slumped, and he continued, “I assure you, whatever it is, I will pass no judgement on you. I cannot make the same promise, however, for the Keeper. I already consider him a coward for not approaching me directly.”

That... was a relief, actually. She didn’t want her Beast to think less of her for bringing up this awkward and unpleasant topic, this accusation that probably had no bearing on reality whatsoever.

“Well,” she began plainly, “Anverelan is convinced that you’re a murderer.” His expression remained unchanged as she continued. “He tells me he has heard stories in which you... _forced_ young Dalish girls to become your brides. That you lured these brides here and then killed them.” She almost felt stupider just saying it aloud. “He wanted me to ask you about that, about the truth behind these tales.”

He was silent for a minute, contemplative yet unresponsive. And though he took just a bit too long to form an answer, she eagerly awaited his response.

“I see. And what do you think?” he asked calmly.

She shook her head. “Isn’t it obvious?” She had hoped it would be. She had hoped she wouldn’t have to use words to explain just exactly what she thought of her Beast. That he would just instinctively know how she felt about him.

She moved towards him, gently placing her palm on the top of his enormous snout. His eyes, red and inhuman, watched her cautiously. She marveled at how tiny her hand looked in comparison to his entire head. His jaw was so massive, she was reminded of its deadly abilities. He was a monster in every physical sense, perfectly capable of snapping her neck without a second thought.

But he _did_ have thoughts, unlike some mindless beast. And he had feelings, though she did not know the half of them. His mind and his heart were full of mystery to her, but they still were very much real. And maybe she was the only one who understood that, that he wasn’t truly a monster. But she could not seem to care one bit what anyone else thought.

She carefully smoothed the short fur between his eyes, all of which closed in contentment.

“Of course I don’t believe him, _ara ghest,”_ she said, shaking her head reassuringly. “I know you better than that.” He opened his eyes as she removed her hand.

“You say that, yet you do not know everything about me,” he challenged.

She thought back on all that she knew about her Beast. About his past, the man she’d come to know through her trips to the Well of Knowledge.

“I know more than you think,’ she confessed.

“Perhaps so,” he permitted. “Either way, I must admit that I am truly grateful for the trust you have placed in me, _da’halla._ It has not gone unappreciated, you must realize.”

She smiled at him, but her smile disappeared upon the sound of movement coming from the bed beside them. She looked down, nearly panicking at the thought that perhaps Anverelan had overheard their intimate conversation.

But the Keeper seemed to have rolled over in his sleep, and nothing more. Naia let out a breath of relief.

“I wonder,” her Beast said a moment later, his eyes narrowing as he regarded the sleeping man, “Has the Keeper given you any indication as to the type of drug he has been taking?”

“No, I didn’t get a chance to ask him,” she admitted. “I suppose it could be opium or something equally serious, or….”

“Or?”

Or the one thing she hoped wasn’t so. If Anverelan had become addicted to lyrium, it would make him little more than a vile hypocrite in her eyes. He was already a hypocrite, she supposed, but the irony of lyrium possibly being the cause of it was not lost on her. Her seemingly unlimited patience was rapidly approaching its limit with this man.

“Or lyrium,” she finished the thought.

He looked pensive. “Yes, that is entirely possible. Lyrium is a highly addictive substance for those who are not accustomed to being around it. In the Fade, it is everywhere, but your people have not had access to the Fade in ages,” he explained. “Of course, lyrium itself can be of assistance there.”

Naia’s brow furrowed. “Assistance where?”

“Accessing the Fade.”

She stared at him blankly for half a second.

“Lyrium… grants access to the Fade?” she asked. If that were true, then the annual ritual, the so-called trance it brought upon the Keepers who participated….

...Her father’s addiction.

 _"It can’t be,”_ she breathed, eyes widening.

Her Beast watched with a concerned expression.

 _“Da’halla,_ what—” he began, pausing as she shook her head at him.

“All that time...” she began, the realization weighing heavily on her, “All that time, he’d been visiting the Fade and I had no idea.” No wonder her father had been addicted to the stuff. She thought about how many times she’d eagerly visited the Fade with the help of Comfort or Solas. How had her father been any different by using lyrium to achieve the same result? That very same longing she often felt had caused nothing but trouble for her family over the years.

“Are we still referring to the Keeper?” her Beast asked.

“My Father,” she corrected. “I told you about the addiction he struggled with, but I never mentioned that it was lyrium. And I never knew, I had no idea that….” She bit her lip, struggling through the numerous emotions she was experiencing. “Why didn’t he tell us? Why didn’t he tell _me?”_

 She’d known, of course, that lyrium was capable of causing almost hallucinogenic visions. When a Dalish Keeper participated in the yearly ritual, they would take a small portion of lyrium, willing themselves into a trance until sleep came over them. Supposedly the gods would then grant them vivid dreams and visions.

The ritual had always been a mystery to Naia, something she’d been curious about when studying under Keeper Deshanna. It was still a mystery, she supposed, because she could hardly begin to understand the Fade as it was. But now she’d seen it for herself, tasted the forbidden fruit that had once been off limits for so long. For the past three months, it had been as easy as falling asleep.

“Surely your father only meant to protect you,” her Beast condoled.

“From _what,_ exactly? Knowledge?” she asked frantically, her frustrations at her father now directed, however unintentionally, at her Beast.

“Some knowledge is capable of cutting deeper than a knife. We were not meant to know everything, _da’halla,”_ he said patiently.

 _I don’t care,_ she wanted to say. Except she did. She knew, of course, that her father loved her. She knew he probably hadn’t wanted to burden her with his problems any longer. Certainly he would have wanted to put his past behind him, or perhaps avoid temptation, or…. Well, she couldn’t exactly know _what_ had been going on in his head. It was a part of his life her father had chosen not to share with her. She needed to respect his choice, and let it go for now. Perhaps he would bring it up in his own time, if she ever saw him again.

Creators, how she wanted simply to _see him again._ Naia fought back the tears that were threatening to flow, turning her head away before her Beast could notice.

“Are you alright?” he asked, breaking her out of her thoughts.

“It’s fine. I’ll be fine. Will you watch him for a while?” she asked, indicating the sleeping Keeper. “I won’t be long,” she promised. He nodded, and she exited the room, leaving the sleeping man alone with her Beast. Which might not have been the best idea, she realized, but she desperately needed to clear her head for a bit.

 

* * *

 

The Dread Wolf watched patiently as Naia made her way out of the room, waiting until the sound of her footsteps completely died away. Then he turned toward the young man lying in bed, whose breathing was not nearly deep enough for slumber.

“How long have you been awake?”

The young man opened his eyes and pushed himself up weakly. He met the wolf’s gaze with disdain.

“Long enough, _Beast.”_

The Dread Wolf regarded the other man cooly. “Hmm. I trust you are feeling better, then?” he asked with no hint of concern.

“Physically speaking, yes, but-”

“Then you’ll be on your way,” he interrupted, wasting no time.

“But Naia will be-”

“Naia will be _fine,”_ he assured the young man curtly. “I will tell her you said goodbye. Now please, I must insist that you leave.”

“I don’t think so,” Anverelan said. The Dread Wolf eyed him in his weakened state, annoyed though slightly impressed by his willingness to keep fighting.

“Oh?”

“You have me all wrong, Beast. I am no coward.”

So he’d been coherent for that part of the conversation, then.

“You see,” he continued, “I heard Naia ask about your brides.”

“My brides,” The Dread Wolf repeated blankly. “Are you still going on about that?”

The Keeper swung his legs over the side of the bed, not breaking eye contact. “You _hesitated_. I heard it, and Naia heard it. The reason I wanted her to ask you personally was so that she could see for herself.”

Six crimson eyes narrowed. “See _what,_ exactly?”

“You skirted around the subject. After you hesitated, you answered her question with another question," he accused. "The stories were right about you; you truly are a silver-tongued demon. You never gave Naia a direct answer, and she completely bought into your deception. She obviously cares deeply for you. If I didn’t know better I’d say she even _loves_ you. Which sickens me to the core, of course. Her feelings for you have blinded her.”

“That is… not entirely true,” the Dread Wolf objected.

Anverelan stood now, holding his ground.

“You cannot deny it. And neither will Naia when I bring this to her attention. How will you react to her questioning then? You cannot hide the truth forever!”

The Dread Wolf stared him down.

“You seem to think that you have some sort of advantage over me. I assure you, Keeper, you pose no threat to me or my well-being. But I cannot make any promises toward your own well-being if you do not leave at once. I have already asked you politely to do so. Do not force me to ask again,” he insisted through bared fangs, a faint growl accompanying his words.

Anverelan took a step back and swallowed hard, but made no move to leave.

“I said at once!” the Dread Wolf growled.

 

* * *

 

Naia found herself in her bedroom, trying to make sense of the new information she’d just learned. The urge to see her family again was growing stronger, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could fight it back. She was becoming more and more frustrated and tired. Perhaps if she checked in on her family again using the Well, she would feel a little better.

Either that, or it would just make things worse. After all, being able to see her family but unable to interact with them was not easy. It was a reminder of what she had lost, and how everything she’d gained in the time since was not enough to make up for that.

How she was still not free.

Hot tears rolled down Naia’s cheeks. She had tried so hard to be brave and to accept her circumstances, to remember that everything she’d done had been for her family. But as long as she did not have the freedom to see them in person, she would never be alright. She’d always known that, deep down, but she’d tried so hard not to think about it. Which didn’t make it any less true.

Naia shut her eyes tight, compelled by the strong urge to shut out the world and the tears for just a moment. But if she allowed herself to fall asleep, Comfort was sure to come and whisk her away to the Fade. How could the false spirit resist helping a friend in distress?

The Fade was hardly where she wanted to be at a time like this, but sure enough, five minutes after closing her eyes, there she was. Five seconds after that, Comfort’s arms were around her, and Naia found herself weeping openly and involuntarily. She let herself be calmed by those arms and the voice of her mother’s memory.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Comfort asked.

She shook her head. “I just want to see my family,” she admitted, drying her face.

“I know you do. Shall we go to the Well, then?”

“No, I mean I want to see them in _person,”_ she amended.

“Oh.”

“And it’s not that I necessarily want to leave the castle, or- or leave _him,”_ Naia continued bleakly. She had no desire to leave her Beast behind. Not after all they had been through. “I....” she paused, not sure how to express what she was feeling in that moment. “I _love_ the castle, it’s my home,” she explained. “I just want to be able to see my family, somehow. I should have the power to make that choice, anytime I want. And I can’t, because I gave away that power when I fulfilled the promise my father made to the Dread Wolf.”

“I know, _da’len,”_ Comfort said, looking at her with a glimmer in her eyes that she couldn’t quite place. “...I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned it, but it was very brave of you to come here in the first place. You should know that. Your family may not ever understand, but they should be proud of you. You’ve done so well.” 

Naia sniffled, her lips twitching upwards. It was strange, but there was some small relief in having someone who didn’t entirely disapprove of her actions.

“And even though you’re in a difficult place right now,” the false spirit continued, “you never know what the future holds _._ I’m sure you’ll get a chance to see your family again one day.”

She sniffled again. “What makes you so sure of that?”

A half-grin accompanied the spark in Comfort’s eyes. “Call it a hunch. Who knows? It may even be sooner than you think.”

Naia shook her head. She wanted to take comfort in those words, but she did not want to give into false hope. 

Then again, there were things Comfort knew that she didn’t. That much had been obvious. Her brow furrowed.

“What aren’t you telling me?” she asked desperately. “Please, _falon,_ what do I need to do to make that happen?”

“It isn’t that simple, _da’len,”_ Comfort began, shaking her head. “Everything that needs to happen... it must happen organically. If you knew everything there is to know, it could ruin all that I....” she halted, as if remembering herself suddenly. Naia’s eyes widened slightly. What had she been about to say? Comfort took Naia’s hand in hers. “You must understand that I only want what is best for you.”

Naia sighed. “Then tell me I will see my family again. Please. That’s all I need to hear,” she begged. She needed it so much she almost didn’t care if it wasn’t entirely true.

Comfort hesitated, then shook her head as though she were second-guessing herself. “If things unfold as I predict they will…. then yes. Yes, I am quite confident that you will see your family again. But you must continue to have patience. It may not be for a long while yet.” Naia frowned at that. “Or it may be tomorrow,” she continued, “but know that it will not be up to you. It will happen when it happens.”

She would be lying to herself if she claimed those words were not a small comfort to hear. Still, she stared the false spirit down.

“Just promise me.”

“I _promise, da’len,_ ” she said, giving her a reassuring smile. “And… I am sorry for being continually evasive. You deserve so much more than I can give you, as… as your friend, that is.” Her eyes seemed to shine with an emotion Naia couldn’t place. “Still, I have every confidence that all will be well, in the end. There is no need to worry, _da’len.”_ And then suddenly her arms were around Naia again, tighter than before, and Naia was left wondering exactly who was comforting whom.

“Come,” she said after taking a step back, her usual composure returning. “Let us go to the Well.”

Right now? Naia shook her head. “I don’t know if I should. I can come back later to check on my family,” she said. Talking to Comfort had been enough to lift her mood. And besides that, she needed to get back to her Beast and Anverelan before her absence caused any trouble. 

“Ah, but don’t you want to see the rest of the story?” she asked, eyes alight with glee.

Naia chuckled lightly. “Of course I do, but—” she paused. “Wait, did you say the _rest?”_ As in the ending? The conclusion?

Comfort nodded, grinning knowingly. “You have seen most of the story by now. I suspect it won’t be long before we reach the tale’s end,” she said with a wink.

Of all the times..... Naia was not sure how she could say no to that. But then she thought of her Beast and Anverelan and all that was happening in the real world. And she knew she shouldn’t let her curiosity take priority over what really mattered….

...But then again, perhaps the real world could spare just a _little_ more time.

“Alright,” she acquiesced. 

And so Naia headed off towards their destination, led by her insatiable curiosity and the thrilling prospect of finally seeing the end of a story that was a long time coming _._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy. It's been 2 months since the last update and I'm still not super happy with how this chapter turned out, but I love my readers and you've all been so patient with me and have had such nice things to say so far. So I'm really pushing myself to not only finish this story but give you an amazing ending that you deserve. Even if I am second guessing myself every now and then. ...Writing is such an interesting journey!
> 
> That being said, I have some good news, at least- the next chapter is already done! I had to split this one into two, since it got way too long. I am, however, going to wait two whole weeks to update (remember when I used to update every 2 weeks? Heh...heh.) So until then, I am curious to hear your reactions. And theories! I love hearing theories ;)
> 
> See you in 2 weeks!


	22. Chapter Twenty One

 

Sounds of music and merriment filled the air as an abundance of people filled the main hall of a castle that was noticeably larger and grander than Fen’harel’s. Images of a glorious and fiery sun were intricately carved into the woodwork on one side of the hall. Its flames stretched far and wide, leaking over onto the other side of the room, where they spilled forth from the mouth of a great dragon, fearsome and formidable. If Naia knew her Dalish lore (and truly, she had no equal there), she would conclude that this castle belonged jointly to Mythal and Elgar’nan.

Indeed, the two gods sat high upon a balcony overlooking the hall, surrounded by the seven others who made up the Elvhen pantheon. A handful of elvhen elites were amongst their company, looking fairly self-important as they were served by a few slaves. A pretty, dark-haired woman sat beside Fen’harel, whose hand expertly lifted the curtain of her hair to whisper in her ear. She giggled noisily, attracting some attention, but Fen’harel continued his pursuit as though the others were not there, his lips finding a spot just behind the woman’s ear that made her giggle even louder. Naia spotted a look of disgust on Andruil’s face as she took in the display that was, to her misfortune, directly across from her.

Below, the nobility of Elvhenan were eating and drinking, chatting and dancing. Food was plentiful and the music was loud. It seemed that nobody wanted for anything, except perhaps for the slaves who attended to the guests that evening. Naia wondered if Fen’harel was thinking of them, too.

She recalled a previous conversation she’d witnessed between the Dread Wolf and Ghilan’nain, where they’d discussed the need for him to keep up appearances. Perhaps his behavior here was a direct result of that plan. He seemed completely oblivious to the world around him, in fact, as he focused his attentions entirely on his current conquest.

Naia also recalled the very last thing she’d seen in the Well. The plot she’d learned of, and the danger Ghilan’nain was in. None of that had happened yet, because Fen’harel was still here with the others, including Ghilan’nain. The story was being told out of order, then, which of course left her with yet more unanswered questions. But if Comfort’s inkling was correct, perhaps she would finally get all the answers today.

A slave woman bearing Mythal’s vallaslin approached the table just then, kneeling low. Mythal nodded in acknowledgment and the other woman held out a small piece of paper. She took it, unfolded it, scanned it briefly, and then nodded again for the woman to leave. She then rose from her seat.

“Apologies, my friends,” she addressed the table, “It seems I am being called away on business. You must excuse me.”

Elgar’nan stood.

“Beloved, is this the best time?” he asked, struggling to appear calm.

She cupped his cheek in her hand and gazed at him lovingly.

“You can try and try, but you will never be able to catch the wind, my love,” she said with a grin, her yellow eyes beaming, matching the bright golden hues of the cloak she wore. Elgar’nan’s face seemed to soften for a moment, but then she turned and walked away without another word, her cloak billowing behind her.

“But this banquet is in your honor!” Elgar’nan called after her, looking as if he wasn’t sure whether to be enraged or saddened. Nobody else seemed fazed by this sudden departure; perhaps this was not untypical, but that did not prevent Elgar’nan from being visibly bothered.

Below, some of the guests stopped and stared as Mythal departed by way of eluvian. Others were too drunk to notice anything was amiss.

Elgar’nan, still standing, addressed his fellow gods.

“Well, what are you all staring at? Do you find this entertaining?”’

The dark-haired woman pouted at Fen’harel.

“Does this mean the party's over?” she asked quietly.

He hummed pensively. “That depends entirely upon the mood of our most gracious host,” he said, keeping his voice lowered. “But fret not, for I hear the after-party is where the real fun dwells.”

He winked at her, and she giggled obnoxiously once more.

The scene thankfully faded into another, darker and slightly quieter one. The sun had set already, and music still filled the hall, but only a small portion of the crowd remained, most of whom Naia recognized from earlier where they’d sat at the table with the Evanuris. Naia could only surmise this was the “after-party” to which Fen’harel had referred, as she observed the gods mingling with other guests on the hall’s main floor.

Ghilan’nain was talking privately with Fen’harel in one corner of the room. Naia caught the end of their conversation.

“Are you certain you cannot stay for the rest of the party?” Fen’harel asked.

“Yes, _falon._ I’ve had quite enough of court intrigue for one evening, thank you.”

She reached up and hugged him.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” she said quietly, pulling away.

He grinned. “Never.”

After Ghilan’nain had gone, Fen’harel crossed the floor to where the dark-haired woman from earlier was standing.  He held out his hand, and she took it eagerly. Then he led her to the center of a sea of moving bodies that danced and twirled in time to the music.

The young god moved with expert grace and elegance, guiding the younger woman to follow suit, with one hand in hers and the other on the small of her back. Actually, it was barely on the small of her back, at that. The Dread Wolf was certainly neither shy nor ashamed as he dipped his partner low to the ground, then pulled her back to him, holding her body very close to his.

Naia had been so mesmerized by their display that she’d failed to notice Elgar’nan also dancing with his own partner, a rather stunning woman who was most definitely not his wife. Yet he danced with her just as intimately as Fen’harel did with his partner. The All-Father made no attempt to hide his affection for this woman as they moved about the floor, swaying and spinning and touching and gazing at each other longingly. They made quite the spectacle, him being the leader of the Evanuris and her being easily the most beautiful woman in the room.

The crowd watched the pair in awe as they continued to dance. Many whispered excitedly to each other, though Naia could not hear a word of any of it. Was this much different, she wondered, from the stories she’d heard of the court at Versailles? A group of wealthy nobles who had absolutely no care for the world around them, merely centered on amusement and gossip and drama. Here was the wealthy upper class, the slave owners, the exclusive, inner circle that surrounded the Evanuris and likely thought themselves better than the rest of society. Here was a group of elites who had perhaps been carefully selected and permitted to see the private lives of the gods themselves.

It was not a world she was familiar with, and though it certainly fascinated her, it also was far from the world she pictured years ago as a Dalish First studying the history of her people. She could not imagine being one of the people in that room, drinking and gossiping and dancing the night away, fully aware that she was being watched and scrutinized at all times. It was an unpleasant thought, in fact.

She did enjoy watching the dancers, however. They did not dance slowly and routinely as the shemlen did, but neither were they as lively and spirited as some of the Dalish folk dances she’d participated in. The music was far more romantic and intoxicating, while the rhythm was relentless and at times complex. Yet the dancers remained graceful all the while. It was rather impressive.

The song ended and the dark-haired woman excused herself, leaving Fen’harel on his own.

“Well, _Wolf,_ what do you think?” Elgar’nan said as he made his way towards the other god, his partner on his arm as if on display. She beamed proudly as the Dread Wolf very subtly looked her up and down. Her hair was fiery red, her emerald eyes were large and expressive, and her full-lipped smile was enticing. That was not to mention the curves which were clearly highlighted by the elegant but form-fitting gown she wore.

Fen’harel maintained eye contact with the mystery woman as he said, “I am inclined to think you have rather poor taste in dance partners.”

The woman raised a brow but did not seem to be otherwise offended by his statement.

Elgar'nan scoffed. “Is your eyesight beginning to fail you or have you gone mad, Fen’harel?”

The Dread Wolf’s steady gaze turned to Elgar’nan. “That would imply that I was speaking to _you._ ”

The elder god looked about ready to kill, when his partner squeezed his arm and said, “Pardon, my Lord, but aren’t you going to introduce me?”

Elgar’nan turned his gaze to the woman, taking a moment to compose himself. Fen’harel took the opportunity to step in.

“Our Most Exalted Lord seems to have forgotten his manners,” he said. He met the woman’s eyes and bowed at the waist, keeping eye contact and drawing stares from onlookers. The woman watched him with a strange expression as well. Apparently a god bowing to a mortal woman came as a bit of a surprise.

“I am Fen’harel,” he said, standing upright again.

“I am honored, My Lord,” she replied, lowering her eyes to the ground while bowing her head.

“Is that your name?” he asked with a laugh, reaching out to lift her chin so that they were eye to eye again.

“You may call me Elunysia, if it pleases you,” she responded with a wide smile.

He grinned. “It pleases me greatly, Lady Elunysia. Elgar’nan is very fortunate indeed to have found such a charming partner.”

She glanced at Elgar’nan, who seemed heavily displeased by Fen’harel’s attentions towards his partner. “Oh, no. Surely I am the fortunate one to have caught My Lord’s eye,” she said.

That appeared to appease Elgar’nan. “Indeed,” he said with an arrogant smirk, “Though it does not hurt that you are the most beautiful creature in all the world.” He took her hand and pressed it to his lips, as if to lay claim to her.

A visibly drunken Dirthamen came over just then, followed by his equally inebriated twin, Falon’din.  Dirthamen clapped Elgar’nan on the back with one hand, causing the drink in his other hand to spill slightly. He either did not notice or did not care.

“Our Elgar’nan attracts only the best and most beautiful of women, of course!” he slurred loudly. “Am I right?” he asked no one in particular.

“Hear hear!” Falon’din chimed in, winking at Elunysia.

Elunysia raised a brow. Elgar’nan put his arm around her shoulder and drew her even closer to him, equally proud and possessive. She smiled politely, but then she leaned up to whisper something in his ear, causing him to grin and nod.

“Please pardon me for a moment, won’t you?” she then said aloud to those who were listening.

Dirthamen watched as Elunysia strutted away, completely mesmerized, evidently, by the sight of her back. Then he turned to the elder god, lowering his voice so that only those who were close by could hear.

“Elgar’nan, you dog! Where on earth did you find a divine creature like that?”

Elgar’nan smiled. “She and her sisters were praying at one of my temples. The moment I saw her I knew I had to make her mine.”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Falon’din interrupted. “Did you just say she has _sisters?”_

He and Dirthamen shared a cheeky look and a laugh.

Fen’harel, who had been watching with a bored expression this whole time, eyed the cup Dirthamen was holding.

“Perhaps it is time to put that down,” he began to say, gesturing to the drink.

“Nonsense,” Dirthamen insisted. He held his drink up high. “In fact, let’s have a toast! Everyone grab a drink!”

People began to gather around, and Dirthamen addressed the small crowd.

“To the almighty Lord Elgar’nan!” he said, clapping the elder god on the back again. “Father of all Elvhenan, Creator of the sun and sky, whose power is unmatched in all the world, and whose vengeance is unrelenting. Feared and beloved by all creation!”

Many cheered at that, and Dirthamen continued. “But especially beloved… by the _ladies.”_ A few men hooted and shouted their agreement. “My Lord does not often boast of his conquests…,” he continued, “Well, at least not in front of his wife.” There was some laughter. “But today I say we celebrate them!” More cheers. He raised his glass higher. “So here is to Elgar’nan the Irresistible, who could have any woman he wants. May the rest of us sorry bastards stand even a sliver of a chance next to him.”

There were more cheers as Dirthamen drank from his cup.

Elgar’nan, looking nice and pleased with himself, placed a hand on the other god’s shoulder. “Dirthamen, old friend, you always know how to brighten my mood.”

“That, my good Lord, is because I know _everything,”_ the god of secrets said with a grin. He put his arm around Elgar’nan's shoulder. “For example, take Fen’harel here. I know exactly what he is thinking right now.”

Fen’harel raised a brow. “I am certain you do not, but since you are about to say something ridiculous no matter how I object: let us hear it.”

“Now, now, this is nothing to be ashamed about, my friend! But do you think I did not notice the way you looked at Elgar’nan’s woman? You’re jealous,” he stated plainly. “Of course, who wouldn’t be? But you, Fen’harel…. You are far too proud to admit that, aren’t you?” Dirthamen asked, eyeing the Dread Wolf. The crowd watched intently. Fen’harel shook his head.

“This is childish. And I am not jealous of a man who can only attract women with money and power,” Fen’harel responded, disinterested. He began to turn and walk away.

Fervent whispering began as Elgar’nan’s smile disappeared.

“I beg your pardon,” he said through gritted teeth.

Fen’harel turned back, grinning. “There is no need to beg, Elgar’nan. I pardon you.”

The crowd grew silent. Elgar’nan fumed silently.

“Why was he always antagonizing Elgar’nan?” Naia wondered aloud. In truth, she was growing increasingly worried about the consequences of Fen'harel's behavior, but she did not comment on it.

“Because he was the only one who was brave enough to do so,” Comfort replied.

Naia nodded in understanding. “Brave, or foolish?” She let the question hang in the air as she anxiously watched the rest of the scene.

Dirthamen laughed just then, breaking the silence and the tension. “Always so quick with his tongue, our Fen’harel. But his words mean nothing. Every word from his mouth is nothing but tricks and lies. Lord Elgar’nan does not depend on his status to attract a woman, but even if he did, at least he could attract a woman without lying to her!”

Elgar’nan smirked. “Be that as it may, Dirthamen, I believe an apology is in order.” He eyed Fen’harel expectantly.

Fen’harel took a step closer to the elder god. “How magnanimous of you, my Lord, but there is no need for you to apologize, either.”

Elgar’nan did not hold back this time. “That is enough!” he shouted, glaring angrily at Fen’harel. “I strongly suggest you hold your tongue, _Wolf,_ before I cut it out!”

Dirthamen was at Elgar’nan’s side in a second, holding him back. “My friends… there is no need for idle threats. May I propose a way to settle this dispute like civilized men?” he suggested.

Fen’harel folded his arms, brow raised. “I would very much like to hear what you have to propose, Dirthamen.”

Elgar’nan’s rage could hardly be contained, but Dirthamen’s arm was around his shoulder again. He shook it off but calmed down enough to say, “Speak.”

“It’s all very simple,” Dirthamen began. “I propose a bet. Fen’harel must prove he can charm a woman into bed without lying to her, and Elgar’nan must do the same by lying… about his identity and wealth, that is. The first to succeed is named the winner. If there is no winner in three days’ time, we shall call it a draw.”

A bet? There was no way Fen’harel would agree to something so childish. At least not at this point in his story. He had grown so much and he obviously had much more urgent things to concern himself with than some silly bet.

“I don’t like it,” said Elgar’nan, frowning. “How will we know Fen’harel won’t lie?”

“Ah, I’m glad you asked,” Dirthamen said excitedly. He pulled something out of his pocket and presented it to the group. It was a small vial filled with shining green liquid. “This potion prevents the tongue from telling a single lie for up to three days. I brewed it myself.”

Fen’harel narrowed his eyes as he stared at the vial.

“I do not think-” he began, but Elgar’nan interrupted.

“I like where this is going,” Elgar’nan exclaimed. “Dirthamen, I believe you’ve finally found a way to muzzle the mutt!”

“When do we start?” Fen’harel asked, suddenly invested.

“In the morning,” Dirthamen replied.

“And the terms?”

“That is between you and Elgar’nan, of course.”

Fen’harel glanced at his rival, the faintest hint of a smile on his face. Then the scene faded to black.

“What? No!” Naia called after the disappearing images. “That can’t be everything!”

“It’s not,” said Comfort, watching the Well carefully. Suddenly, the image of Fen’harel’s castle appeared. Naia sighed in relief and prepared for another piece of the story, but then she noticed the banner that was displayed in front of the castle. It was hers.

“This is….” she paused, brow furrowing.

“This is now,” Comfort explained, “and something is wrong. Someone is in distress. You must go back at once.”

Someone…. Naia’s eyes widened. Could she mean Anverelan? Or her Beast? She knew she shouldn’t have left those two alone!

“What’s going on?” she began to ask, but there was no time for answers as Comfort released her hold on Naia’s mind. She felt herself slipping back into consciousness as she heard her mother’s soothing voice saying, “Don’t worry. I’ll bring you back here tonight.”

 

* * *

 

Naia hastily made her way back to the room where she’d left Anverelan and her Beast. It was empty when she found it.

She had only been gone for maybe twenty minutes. What could have happened in that time? Her mind flooded at once with every possible outcome, and needless to say, not all of them were particularly pleasant.

She began to run in the opposite direction from where she’d come, until she came across her Beast, alone. So he wasn’t the one in distress, then.

“What happened?” she asked, trying not to panic.

“If you are inquiring about our guest, I made it quite clear to him that he has overstayed his welcome. I asked Cole to escort him out, and he seemed eager to leave after that,” he explained.

 _Damn._ Anverelan may have come here to stir up trouble, but that didn’t mean Naia wanted to frighten him off in order to get him to leave. And what’s more, she still needed to talk to him about his... problem. She needed to make sure he sought help. As ironic as the situation would be, she didn’t want him to go through what her father endured with no family or friends to support him.

“I have to say goodbye,” she exclaimed, and rushed off without another word. She never thought she would ever be so eager to talk to that despicable man, but at least this would be the last time she’d ever have to see him.

She found Anverelan just as he reached the halla at the edge of the gardens, with Cole hovering closely behind. He seemed surprised to see her.

“Naia! Creators, am I glad you’re here! We need to talk before I go,” he said.

“Yes, we do,” she agreed. “You’re-”

“That Beast _threatened_ me!” Anverelan interrupted.

“...What?” That didn’t sound like her Beast. Then again, Comfort _had_ said someone was in distress.

Keeper Anverelan’s gaze turned to Cole, who was observing silently, cold and expressionless.

“Does this _thing_ need to be here?” he asked rather rudely. “It’s making me nervous.”

Naia frowned. “Cole is my friend. Anything you have to say can be said in front of him. Isn’t that right, Cole?”

Cole quietly blinked at her and then nodded.

Anverelan huffed. “Fine. Anyway, as I was saying, your Beast isn’t as _soft and cuddly_ as you seem to think. He threatened me if I did not leave immediately.”

Naia knew better than to take Anverelan’s word to heart so easily. Brow raised, she asked, “Threatened you _how,_ exactly?”

Anverelan paused. “Well, he didn’t actually say how…. But that is beside the point!”

She shook her head. “So you’re telling me that you were scared of an empty threat?” Typical.

“What? Of course not. I don’t think you understand,” he started. Naia stopped him with a hand in the air.

“I don’t want your explanations. Here,” she said, reaching into her pocket. She grabbed the sack of embrium petals and dried elfroot she’d stored away earlier and handed it to him. “This is the same medicine I gave you before. It will help with your symptoms. Don’t take it all at once,” she explained calmly.

He stared at the sack and then back at her. “...Thank you,” he said, taking it from her and growing suddenly quiet.

“Can we talk about this?” she asked after a moment. “This… thing you’re dealing with. Is it lyrium? Because if it is, you can tell me.”

He looked away, ashamed. “...Yes.”

She let out a breath. It still came as a bit of a shock, even though she’d guessed correctly. “Alright. When did this start?”

Anverelan took a deep breath. “It was at the end of the New Year celebration. The ritual…. Deshanna never showed me what to do. I think I took too much, and....” His eyes glazed over as he recalled the events. “I was out for hours, Naia. My mind was in this... this strange place that I cannot even begin to describe. When I woke up, all I knew was that I needed to go back. I know it was wrong. And I know….” He looked at her directly. “I know I am a hypocrite. I hate it. I hate that I can’t stop. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to….”

Naia shook her head. “That’s not true.”

She felt like a hypocrite herself in that moment. She wouldn’t know how to give up the Fade, either, if she had to. But this was different, she reminded herself. Anverelan had gained a sort of physical dependency on the very substance that was taking him to the Fade. And it was making him sick. What would happen when he ran out of lyrium?

“Listen to me,” she said, “First, if you still have more lyrium back home, you’ll need to start gradually lowering your doses until you don’t need it anymore. Quitting all at once would be dangerous. Do you understand?”

He nodded. “I think so.”

“Good. The second thing you need to do is _tell someone about this._ Anyone. As long as you have someone to hold you accountable.”

“Are you serious?” he asked incredulously. “Do you know what would happen if word spread of this?”

“There must be somebody you can trust,” she said.

He lowered his eyes.

“There is nobody. Surrounded by people, yet there is nothing beneath the surface,” Cole spoke softly from his spot beside them. He had been so still that Naia had almost forgotten he was there. She frowned as she took in the meaning of his words. Anverelan seemed mortified by them.

“How would you know any of that? What _are_ you?” he asked, staring at Cole warily.

“Like I told you, he is a friend,” she interjected, turning to the Keeper. “Just like I am. Anverelan, listen to me. You will find someone,” she reassured him. “Maybe… maybe you just need to be a little bit nicer. You’ll find that people can surprise you, you know.”

“I don’t know about that,” he said skeptically.

She frowned. With his attitude, it was a wonder he wasn’t more popular.

“Fine. Just… just promise me you’ll at least try,” she said.

“Alright,” he yielded. “I promise. But only if you promise me something in return.”

She eyed him quizzically. Was he seriously trying to use her sympathy towards him to make a deal with her?

“Well?” she asked.

Anverelan placed a hand on her shoulder, and though she had the urge to brush it off, she met his pleading green eyes and tried to see past the man she’d known. Forced herself for a moment to imagine the man he could be.

“Keep seeking the truth,” he responded. “I know you, Naia. You’ve never been one to back out of an opportunity to do just that, even if that truth is painful or difficult to accept. You may not like to hear it, but I swear that Beast of yours is hiding something.” She groaned internally at that, but let him finish. “I confronted him about it, before he got angry with me and chased me away. You can ask him yourself. Watch how he makes excuses or changes the subject; you’ll see what I mean. He is not telling you the whole truth.”

“Don’t you think I know that already?” she argued. “He has never pretended to tell me everything, yet he has been open and honest about everything else. I told you: I trust him, and that is enough for me.” And besides, she was so very close to learning to whole truth anyway. Tonight, at the Well, she planned to do just that.

“Why do you trust him when he clearly does not do the same for you?” Anverelan objected.

“What? He trusts me,” she argued.

“Then why does he keep that garden door locked?" he questioned, folding his arms over his chest. "You know the one.”

Naia hesitated, picturing the door to the locked garden, forever shut and inaccessible.

In a way, the castle gardens were not unlike the Dread Wolf himself, beautiful and immortal and lonely, with a small portion that was closed off and kept hidden from her. She’d known that, and she respected it.

“I… I don’t know,” she replied. “What does it matter?”

“It matters because if he can’t trust you, then you shouldn’t trust him. Think about that.”

It was a perfectly logical point, yet Naia could not bring herself to concede it.

“What do you expect me to do?”she asked, growing frustrated.

“Find out what’s in that garden, of course,” he responded with a sly grin.

“And how do you expect me to do that? It’s not like I have a key,” she noted, as if that changed anything.

“Every lock has a key. This one must be somewhere. Besides, if you really wanted to know what was in there, I have no doubt that you would find a way.”

Naia’s response was almost too quick. “Well, it’s a good thing I don’t really want to know what’s in there, then.”

It wasn’t entirely true, of course. She did want to know. But it didn’t matter. She didn’t need to sneak around behind her Beast’s back to find out what he was hiding. If he wanted to let her in, that should be his decision, shouldn’t it?

“I think you do,” Anverelan taunted, eyes gleaming as if he were looking right through her. He leaned in closer, his voice lowering. “I think you’re just dying to know what’s behind that door.”

He was uncomfortably close now and Naia took a step back, warning him with a look that could kill. “And I think it’s time for you to go.”

For once, he did not object, and Naia let out a breath of relief as he finally bid her _adieu._

She verified that Anverelan would deliver her letter this time (thankfully, he’d held onto it). Then she made him promise that he would protect the halla while she was in his care, until her family was ready to send their response. Once Naia was satisfied, she bid him a safe journey and he mounted the halla. Then he was gone in a flash, over the lake and out of sight.

“Why did you lie to that man?” Cole asked as they turned to head back towards the castle. He looked genuinely perplexed. For a moment, Naia was confused as well.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

“You told Anverelan you didn’t want to know what’s inside the garden, but you do.”

Oh, that. She'd been hoping not to think about that.

“Cole, sometimes telling the truth is not… beneficial,” she explained.

“Oh. Maybe that is why he hid the truth from you, too,” he mused.

She stopped abruptly. “What? Cole, what was Anverelan hiding?”

He tilted his head. “I don’t know. I only know he was keeping _something_ from you _._ And he felt scared of what would happen if you knew the truth.”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter now. He’s gone,” she said, prepared to continue on her way. But her gaze lingered on the gardens as they passed by.

“I _do_ know what the Dread Wolf is hiding, you know,” Cole continued.

She stopped, whirling around to face him.

“You _do?”_

Why hadn’t she thought to ask him that before? Maybe if Cole just told her what it was, she wouldn’t feel the need to go and see for herself. She wouldn’t need to feel guilty.

“Can you tell me?” she asked, wide-eyed.

Cole frowned. “He asked me never to speak of it to anyone.”

Her shoulders fell. “I see.”

“He is scared too, of you finding out,” the ghost boy said.

She frowned. What could be so terrible that her Beast had to keep it locked away out of fear? This was becoming more and more worrying. Naia bit her lip, internally weighing her options.

“Maybe you can’t tell me what’s in there, Cole, but do you happen to know where the key is?” she asked. If he didn’t know, then it didn’t matter. But if he did, at least he could share that knowledge with her.

“Yes,” he replied.

That was it. All she needed to do was retrieve the key and then take a peek into the garden. She wouldn’t even go inside. Just one glance, and that would put her mind at ease. Presumably.

But just because Cole knew the location of the key did not mean she was anywhere close to obtaining it. Perhaps it would take time and careful planning for her to steal it away without the Dread Wolf realizing it was gone.

What was she thinking? Naia shook her head. How could she so easily decide to betray her Beast like that? She should just walk away from this conversation and forget it ever happened.

“I don’t know why you need a key though,” Cole continued, interrupting her thoughts. “I never understood the purpose of those things. Whenever I want to be on the other side of a door, I just go through it.”

Naia’s eyes widened.

“Cole, you’re brilliant! You can walk through closed doors!”

“Yes, I know. I just said that,” he replied.

She laughed. “Exactly. You can, but I can’t. You can go through the door and then unlock it from the other side!”

“Oh. I could do that.” He began to walk towards the gardens, but Naia stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Not now. We’ll come back later, when there’s less chance of getting caught. And you must promise not to speak a word of this, alright?” she asked, feeling guilty already.

Cole studied her for a moment, and then nodded. “Alright.”

 

* * *

 

Now that she had decided to go through with this plan, Naia could not stop thinking about it. Which was difficult, especially, around her Beast. So she swallowed the guilt back and forced herself to think of something else for the rest of the day.

For instance, the story of Fen’harel. She’d left off just as he had agreed to some ridiculous bet against Elgar’nan, the terms of which had not yet been made clear. All she knew was that he had insulted and wounded Elgar’nan’s pride, so the stakes were certain to be dire. Could it be that Fen’harel was to lose the bet, and was still carrying out the punishment of that loss to this day?

But how could he be punished so severely simply for losing a bet? And why would Fen’harel have ever agreed to such terms in the first place? Perhaps he had been simply that confident in his ability to win. Or perhaps Elgar’nan had tricked him, somehow.

But Fen’harel was the trickster, not Elgar’nan. That didn’t make sense. There had to be more to this whole mystery than a simple bet. Comfort had said she’d bring her back that night, so she would just have to wait until then to see.

Before she retired for the evening, however, Naia grabbed a small lantern and stealthily made her way to the castle’s front doors, where Cole was waiting. She needed to quench this unbearable curiosity once and for all.

She hid the lantern under her cloak to keep from attracting attention. Then she and Cole stepped outside into the dark. There was just enough moonlight that evening to guide their path as they made their way to the locked garden.

They reached the little wooden door, and Cole looked at her, almost as if expecting her to change her mind. She hesitated for a moment. It was not too late to turn back and go to sleep. But if she didn’t do this now, she would always wonder and certainly regret. She nodded to Cole, and he stepped through the door, disappearing before her eyes. After a moment, Naia heard a _click._

The door swung open, held by Cole. Naia stood there for a minute, still in disbelief that she was actually doing this. Then she took a deep breath, and then a step.

The garden was mostly empty, no beds of flowers or hedges. Just a single tree, tall and wide, blocking the moonlight from shining through. There were several small, rounded shapes coming out of the ground on the other end of the garden, all lined up in a row like shrubbery. But these were different somehow.

Naia drew closer to get a better look, and her heart skipped a beat. The shapes were made of chiseled stone. She was standing in a graveyard.

Her eyes widened as she realized what this meant. She bent down and held out her lantern to read what had been written on each stone. All Dalish women's names. Each described as a “Bride of Fen’harel.”

She swallowed hard, urging herself to calm down, trying to tell herself that there was a perfectly understandable explanation for this. But then she lost her footing and fell, hitting the dirt hard. Her arm began to throb, but it was nothing compared to the frightening realization that she’d very narrowly missed falling into a huge ditch.

She scrambled to quickly push herself off of the ground and away from what was clearly a freshly dug grave. With one hand over her mouth to keep from screaming, she held out her lantern near the headstone that was standing there…

...And screamed anyway, no longer able to hold back the pure horror that filled her entire being in that moment upon seeing the words written there.

_Naia Syrianna Lavellan, Bride of Fen’harel._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where to begin? First, I feel terrible leaving you all with the Cliffhanger From Hell. And for that, I am going to try so hard to get the next chapter updated ASAP. I know I was a little bit late on this one, and I don’t have a date planned for the next one, but like I said it’ll be as soon as I can.  
> So I had this chapter ending planned for a long time, but I debated not doing it for a while. I know it’s a bit... extreme. But Naia just struck me more and more as a Bluebeard’s Wife/Pandora type, and I just couldn’t resist. I think it adds a darker element to the story. But, as usual, there is more than meets the eye here so I hope you’ll hang in there until the next chapter. Remember, things often become bleak before there can be a happy ending. :)


	23. Chapter Twenty Two

 

Her first instinct was to run.

In Naia’s mind, she knew there was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. Still, her legs began moving independently of her mind, eager to take her _anywhere but here._

Back inside the castle, then. Lantern abandoned. No time to think, only run.

She’d screamed. She’d screamed, and he was sure to have heard her. Was Cole still with her? It didn’t matter. She couldn’t look back now.

The lights from the damn candelabras followed her about the castle. She wanted nothing more in that moment than to be invisible, and the lights were not helping. Silently she prayed that she would not happen across her Beast. _The_ Beast. Whoever he was. _Gods, had everything been a lie? Could Anverelan have been right this whole time?_

No, no, no, no, no. She could not think about that right now. She needed to keep running.

Hoping to get as far away from the ground as possible, she found herself up on the roof. A bad spot for hiding, probably. It had been _their_ spot, after all.

It didn’t matter. She just needed to stop for a minute. Deep breaths. In, out.

She felt nauseous. Lightheaded. Like the ground beneath her feet was about to give out. Like nothing was really stable, and the world around her could collapse at any minute.

A low rumble of thunder echoed just then. Naia looked up to see that the clear, starry sky from earlier was now completely dark. Where had those clouds come from?

Slowly she lowered herself to the ground, sitting upright and holding her knees to her chest. She just needed to hold onto something for a moment and collect her thoughts.

But she couldn’t stay here. He would find her. No matter where she went, he would find her and she would have to face him. Face the truth. Whatever that might be.

She couldn’t stay here, no. Not at the castle, that is. Until now, she’d stayed here for her family’s sake. She could have tried to run away in the past, but she never did. Now, when she wanted desperately to run, she couldn’t. Her only chance at escape was currently delivering a message to her family.

A message that told them she was perfectly safe. Only she didn’t know that for sure anymore.

Of course, she didn’t know that she was in any immediate danger, either. She wanted to stop and breathe and think rationally for a moment, but what she had just witnessed hardly gave way to rational thought. And while somewhere in the back of her mind was the small hope that this could all be explained, right now she didn’t want explanations. She just wanted to be far, far away.

 _Deep breaths, Naia_ , she told herself. Her heart was racing still, along with her mind. It was all she could do to keep from screaming again. _Please tell me this is a nightmare. It has to be._

“So much uncertainty and fear,” came a soft voice from nearby. She turned her head to see Cole, crouching on the ground in the dark. She could barely see his face, but the wide brim of his hat was unmistakable in the dim moonlight that was straining to break through the clouds.

“Cole. Why did you let me do this?” she asked desperately. He’d known what was on the other side of that door this whole time, and still he’d helped her open it.

“I don’t understand,” he said. “You were determined to see what was inside the garden, so I helped. Would you rather I didn’t?”

“No,” she replied, frowning. “At least, I don’t think so. I just know that if I hadn’t gone in there, then right now I wouldn’t be filled with such _uncertainty and fear._ ”

“Oh,” came his simple response. “Actually, I was talking about _them.”_

“Them?”

...He meant the brides, didn’t he? Naia hadn’t even thought of them yet. She almost didn’t want to believe they were real. But they were. Or they had been, once upon a time. ...And then the Beast had buried them, just like Anverelan described. She forced herself not to imagine it.

“They were so frightened when they came here,” Cole continued. “Not like you. You weren’t afraid at all.”

“...What did he do to them, Cole?” she asked, leaving her next question unspoken. _What will he do to me?_

“What do you think?” Cole replied.

It was a simple question, though the answer was anything but. Naia thought _everything._ Every possible scenario raced through her mind all at once. She shut her eyes and willed them to stop.

What _did_ she think?

She’d only known the Dread Wolf for three months, and in that time he had become her closest friend. She’d been so certain of who he was, that he had been and still was a good man. Now she was questioning everything she knew again, for the millionth time since she’d come to his castle.

It was becoming apparent that she couldn’t trust her own thoughts anymore. She needed to look at this objectively.

...Objectively, there was a headstone with her name on it beside a freshly dug grave. Not exactly a comforting thought, no matter which way one looked at it.

And yet, _how_ had the headstone gotten there? It wasn’t like the Beast had chiseled the stone himself. He didn’t have hands. So then… magic? The garden was part of the castle, after all, and the castle was magic.

But why would the castle be preparing for her death? It was a bit ominous. And what of the other girls, these _brides?_ Gods, that word just did not sit well with her. And according to her headstone, she was one of them. A _bride of Fen’harel._

She shook her head at that thought and forced herself to concentrate.

Natural deaths. They could very well have died of natural causes, plain and simple. After all, these girls were probably defenseless, and the Dread Wolf was anything but senselessly violent. No, of course he hadn’t _murdered_ them. After all they had been through together, Naia still felt confident that he would never do that.

He might not be a murderer, but if these girls were anything like her, then he had probably tricked and captured them somehow. Why? For the same, unknown reason he’d been keeping Naia here?

But if that were so, then these girls had lived here, just like her. They were probably even treated kindly, just like her. Only they’d never left. That was the problem. They’d stayed here until the day they died. Which meant that Naia’s fate was likely to be the same.

She’d known that was a possibility, of course, when she left home. But all this time, she’d still held onto the hope that she’d see home again someday. Comfort had even encouraged that hope, just earlier that day. But seeing her own _grave_ had shattered that hope in an instant.

She could not let that be her destiny. She would not let this castle become her tomb.

Perhaps… perhaps when the halla returned, then, she would simply take her leave. She wondered if the Beast would really attempt to stop her. She hadn’t thought to put that to the test until now.

There was a flash of lightning in that moment, lighting up the sky like a warning for Naia to find cover. Stubbornly, she stayed put, even as the wind began to pick up and the air grew thick with moisture.

There was one other thing that was still bothering her greatly. Why couldn’t the Beast have just told her about his brides? Even when she had asked about them, he never gave her a straight answer. Why all the misdirection and secrecy?

 _They were so frightened when they came here,_ Cole had said. _Not like you._

Was he afraid of scaring her away? She frowned. It was too late for that now. She had already made up her mind about leaving the castle.

The instant that thought crossed her mind, the sky opened up above her and began pouring out everything it had to give.

Naia ran for the door, but not before getting soaked from head to toe in freezing cold rainwater (which seemed, of course, to have no effect on Cole).

“To answer your question,” she said to him once they’d gotten safely indoors, “I think the Beast and I need to talk.”

Cole nodded, a ghost of a smile on his face, while she shivered and quickly turned to head back downstairs.

She wouldn’t hide from the Beast, like he had from her. No more secrecy. Besides, when had she ever been afraid to confront him? She was not about to change that now.

 

* * *

 

She stopped by her room first to dry off by the fire. There was no sense in getting sick. Then she slipped into the new chemise that seemed to be waiting for her when she’d entered the room. Her hair was still a bit wet, but she wasn’t concerned about that as she headed down to the main floor of the castle.

As she neared the foyer, she spied a trail of water droplets that seemed to be coming from the front doors. She followed the trail to the fireplace in the main hall. The Dread Wolf stood there by the fire, eyes closed, the light of the flames flickering and casting shadows behind his giant form.

Not wishing to disturb him, she waited patiently for him to turn around.

“What are you doing?” the Dread Wolf spoke in a tired voice. She started, emerging from the pillar she thought she’d been stealthily hiding behind. His eyes were open now but he kept his back to her.

“I… I was just looking for you,” she said. He turned then, red eyes narrowing, taking in her damp hair and weary eyes.

“I see. And did you find what you were looking for?” His words came out unusually sharp.

Brow furrowed, she asked, “What do you mean?”

He began to slowly walk towards her, his crimson gaze intense and unsettling.

“You have now seen me for the _monster_ I truly am,” he sneered. She moved back a bit as he drew closer to her. _“Is this what you wanted?”_ he asked, anger dripping from his voice. Eyes wide, she backed up again, only to find the wall behind her. _“Well?”_ he snapped, fangs bared and only inches away from her face.

She stared him down, but her hands were shaking at her sides. “No. I never wanted any of this, remember? You were the one who dragged me into this,” she accused, focusing hard to keep her voice from trembling.

“That is correct. I dragged you here, just like I dragged the others here,” he snarled. “You’ve seen them. You know what has become of them. You know the truth, now.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know anything,” she responded softly.

“No, you do not,” he agreed, his velvet voice cruel and cold, in contrast to his breath which was hot against her skin. He did not move from his position, effectively keeping her trapped against the hard stone wall.

“What do you want with me?” she asked cautiously.

His mouth turned upward. “Why should I tell you that? Would it not be more thrilling for you to remain in ignorance, never knowing what I will do or when I might _strike?”_ the last word was accompanied by a deep growl.

She watched him incredulously, barely able to believe that the beast before her was _her_ Beast. It was the sudden change in his behavior—like night and day—that frightened her, not necessarily _him._ She’d never been afraid of him. And despite what his words suggested, she wasn’t afraid of what he might do to her. If he had wanted to harm her, he would have done so by now. Instead, he was simply toying with her mind. And somehow, that was even worse.

“Stop it,” she said, her voice coming out weaker than she’d intended.

He remained still for a moment, studying her expression, and then finally he turned away, allowing her the chance to escape. She didn’t take it.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked. “I thought… I thought you….” she couldn’t bring herself to finish.

With his back towards her, he turned his head to the side, gaze averted.

“Did you think I loved you?” he spat. “I never loved any of my former brides. They were nothing but children, just like you.”

“I’m not a child,” she argued, but she realized as she said it just how childish it sounded. She didn’t care. She was too hurt by the suggestion that he felt nothing for her. Even if she couldn’t believe it was true.

The Dread Wolf laughed coldly.

“Compared to me you are but a babe, and I am the monster who snatches children from the loving arms of their families,” he said, watching her out of the corner of his eyes. “You seem to have forgotten that you are my prisoner and I your captor. Allow me to remind you that you will remain in this castle _until the day you die,_ unless I change my mind and let you go.” He turned to face her again, eyes gleaming wildly as he asked in the same, harsh voice, _“But what sort of monster would I be if I did that?”_

She shook her head fervently. This was not her Beast. He was trying to intimidate her. She didn’t know why, but she was determined to call his bluff.

“You keep calling yourself that,” she began, slowly moving closer to him. “A monster. But that’s not who you are.” He watched her carefully.

“Is it?” he challenged. She ignored him and kept moving forward. He stepped back.

“No, it’s not,” she insisted firmly. “I know who you are, Fen’harel.”

He was the one who had taken her from her family, yes, but then allowed her to contact them at risk of personal loss. He was the one who had patiently taught her to speak the lost language of their people, the one who had spent countless hours talking to her, reading with her, and dreaming with her. The one who had brought her to the Fade and taught her magic every night simply because she had asked it of him, after using that same magic to protect her from a demon attack.

He was the same person she’d seen in the Well of Knowledge, the young god who raged against the vanity and the injustices of the world around him. She was not the one who had forgotten who he was; he was the one who needed reminding.

She stepped towards him again. They were a few feet away, but she’d successfully backed him into a corner.

“And who am I?” he asked, brow raised.

Confidently, she said, “You are Solas, the one who freed the captive slaves of Elvhenan.”

He huffed. “You are sadly mistaken. I told you once before that the truth would only disappoint you. _I am no hero,”_ he reminded her, voice full of venom. “I am not the savior of your Dalish fairy tales. _I am the villain, remember?”_

“No,” she said, standing firm. “I don’t believe that. My people are wrong about you.”

He let out a short, humorless snort. “They are merely wrong about the _details._ I am afraid they are right about me, however.”

“What… what do you mean?” she asked.

He began pacing back and forth. “Where shall I begin? No doubt my list of transgressions is incessant, but I shall keep it brief: First, I tricked the gods and sealed them away for all eternity. I sundered this world from the Fade, destroying any last connection between the two. I am the very reason your people have lost their magic, the reason you have become just like the shemlen, living and dying in the blink of an eye. I am responsible for all of that and more.”

She shook her head. How could that be?

“Why are you telling me this now?” she asked, brow furrowed.

He stopped. “Because you already knew the truth, long before you met me. Shall you hold me responsible for any assumptions you might have gathered since then?”

She frowned, thinking back on all that she knew. It didn’t seem to add up.

“There must be more to the story than that,” she said determinedly. “What happened to the slaves?”

 _“Don’t you see?”_ he roared, causing her to step back. “It does not matter! I failed them, in the end. They paid the price for my actions, just like the rest of our people!”

“No,” she said quietly. She refused to accept that. She needed to see it for herself. She needed to get back to the Well.

...No, she needed to go _home._ As much as she longed for answers, she also needed to prioritize what really mattered, here and now. After all that had happened tonight, after all the trouble her damn curiosity had caused, it was time for her to step back and rethink her choices. The answers could wait.

Perhaps she really would leave, then. Not forever, of course. She supposed she could always come back, at least to see if the Dread Wolf was alright. For all his acting as though he did not care for her just now, Creators knew she still cared about him. She wasn’t sure if that could ever change, no matter what his transgressions were....

She also still cared greatly about Cole, and the halla, and Comfort. Especially Comfort, strange as it seemed.

For now, though, she would go home, take back her freedom and see her family. Then, after enough time had passed, she would come back and visit the castle and the Fade, perhaps for the last time.

But Naia still could not leave the castle until the halla returned. And so, exhausted and sorely disillusioned, she simply exclaimed, “I’m going to sleep. I don’t care what you do. Just don’t expect to see much of me tomorrow.”

She did not need to tell the Dread Wolf of her plan just yet. It was not the right time. He said nothing as she departed, and she went straight to bed.

 

* * *

 

She was in the Fade again.

Of course she was in the blighted Fade again. Comfort had obviously sensed her distress. Or the Well had sensed her distress and alerted Comfort to it. She still wasn’t sure how that worked.

“Are you alright?”

Naia turned to find Comfort watching her carefully, concern evident on her features. Had she seen what happened, then?

“I don’t know, _falon,”_ she confessed, genuinely unsure how to answer that. “...Everything was so much simpler just a few days ago.”

“I know, _da’len,”_ Comfort consoled, placing a hand on the young woman’s shoulder.

Naia frowned, trying to make sense of everything. “Or... or maybe it wasn’t simpler. Maybe I just got too comfortable where I was,” she noted. “Maybe it’s time for a change.”

Comfort raised a brow. “A change?”

“I have to leave, _falon._ I can’t stay here anymore,” she confessed, desperation in her eyes. “I know a deal was made for me to stay forever, but I just cannot keep it. I can’t….” She stopped and took a deep breath, then let it out slowly.

Comfort nodded sympathetically. “I thought you might say that. ...Though I don’t suppose I could convince you to stay for a little while longer?”

The request was rather unexpected.

“A little while longer?” Naia repeated.

Comfort smiled sadly. “I think I would miss you terribly if you left,” she admitted. “If you are uncomfortable here, of course, then you may do as you like. I cannot stop you. The Dread Wolf could stop you, I suppose, but I doubt he would even try.”

“If that’s true….” Naia paused. _Would_ the Dread Wolf try and stop her? He’d indicated earlier that her fate was clear, that she would live and die here just like the others.

The others.… Had the other brides ever even tried to run away, though? Perhaps they hadn’t had access to the halla, like she did. After all, Naia hadn’t always known where the creature was kept hidden. She’d happened upon her quite by accident, though after that her Beast had permitted her to visit the halla whenever she liked.

She supposed, then, that she’d always had the option of leaving at any time. How would he have been able to stop her if she’d just taken the halla and departed? How would he stop her if she were to leave now?

Perhaps his attitude towards her that evening had just been an act, then. But Naia could not tell if he was trying to keep her from leaving or scare her away forever.

She sighed. “If nobody is stopping me,” she continued, “then I will take my leave as soon as the halla returns. Which I suspect will be tomorrow, if not the day after.”

“I see,” said Comfort, her shoulders falling. “Then I suppose this is goodbye.”

“There is no need to say goodbye, _falon._ I am not leaving forever, you know,” Naia assured with a smile.

Comfort did not seem reassured. Eyes gleaming, she said, quite seriously, “Then I will simply say this: come with me to the Well one last time, if you will. Let us finish what we started.”

Going to the Well was the last thing on Naia’s mind at that moment. After the evening she’d just had, she wasn’t sure if she could handle any more excitement.

“If you don’t mind, I’d rather not. I am exhausted,” she confessed, “both physically and emotionally. I think I need a break from the Fade, to be honest. But when I come back, after I’ve visited my family, I will find you and we will pick up where we left off. I promise.”

“That may not be the best idea, _da’len._ Please,” the false spirit insisted. “I know that you are weary. I know that you have been hurt and that you are confused, but if you were to just finish the story, you would understand everything.”

“I… I don’t know if I want to understand right now, _falon._ I have been nothing but patient and understanding towards the Beast this entire time.” She paused, thinking back to his behavior earlier. “Does he even care what I think anymore? He didn’t act like it.”

“Listen to me,” Comfort said, meeting her eyes imploringly. “Whatever the Wolf said to you tonight, you must forget it. You said it yourself: he is not a monster. He is simply a man who has given up hope. Please, _da’len,”_ she pleaded. “He needs your help.”

“And what about what I need?” It was a question she so rarely asked. It seemed like her whole life had been dedicated to meeting other people’s needs instead.

“Of course. Of course your needs matter, too, dear one,” Comfort agreed. She sighed. “Don’t do it for him then,” she amended. “Do it for _me._ As your friend.”

Naia pursed her lips. Watching the desperation and earnestness on her own mother’s face made it difficult to say no.

“As a friend,” she repeated. Comfort was still her friend, even if the Dread Wolf was not. “...Alright,” she resigned. Comfort’s face lit up at that.

“Thank you, _da’len,”_ she beamed.

“Don’t mention it,” Naia responded. “I probably wasn’t going to get much sleep tonight anyhow.”

And that was how she found herself in front of the Well of Knowledge for what might be the very last time.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You asked for it, and 2 weeks later, here it is! The answer to last chapter’s plot twist. Well… part one of that answer, at least. Stay tuned because there are plenty of answers to come in chapter 23! I loved all of your reactions, by the way. I got more comments on the last chapter than any of the others. It was delightful. Thank you all for the continued support! Ciao :)


	24. Chapter Twenty Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for cussin’ and intimate (but not graphic) situations

Before Naia’s eyes was the very last scene she expected to see. A man and a woman embraced passionately, their faces pressed together so close that she could not make out who they were. The woman’s long, fiery red hair tumbled loosely over her exposed shoulders. Both man and woman were still mostly clothed, thankfully, but Naia did not expect that to last much longer as they slowly made their way—somehow without ever breaking for air—towards a spectacularly large bed.

It was the woman, in fact, who seemed to be leading the man in that particular direction. When they reached the edge of the bed, he pulled away from her, a wicked smile gracing his familiar face.

“You are insatiable this evening, my dear,” said a very breathless Elgar’nan.

The woman, whom Naia recognized from earlier as his prized lover, Elunysia, bit her lip. “I cannot help it, My Lord. There is something different about you tonight. You are just so... _irresistible.”_ Her voice took on a deeper tone as she said the last word, and she wrapped her arms around him again.

Elgar’nan smirked, eyeing the bed. “Shall we, then?” he asked.

In response, Elunysia leaned in and kissed him full on the lips. As she pulled away, she caught his lower lip gingerly with her teeth and then let go. Naia felt her cheeks grow hot as she witnessed the sensual display. Growing up in a Dalish clan, she was hardly prude (unlike some of their shemlen neighbors), but it still felt like she was intruding on a private moment that was not meant for her eyes. What on earth was the Well showing her?

In an instant, three things happened. First, Elgar’nan’s shirt was pulled over his head by Elunysia’s greedy fingers, exposing the toned upper half of his body. Next, she pushed him forward onto the bed so that he was lying back and she was hovering above him. And finally, after a grunt of approval, Elgar’nan flipped them over so that he was the one on top, causing his lover to squeal with delight.

Naia was about to say something to Comfort, or at least look away from the shameless display that was about to unfold, when suddenly Elgar’nan’s visage began to warp and change. Elunysia gaped, surprised by the transformation that continued on until it was no longer the god of vengeance who straddled her. There, in his place, was a still half-clothed, impishly grinning Fen’harel.

The woman’s eyes widened. “Trickster!” she shouted, and Naia fully expected her to shove him away, but he instantly moved aside so that she could move freely. She sat up immediately, fixing her disheveled hair and clothing. “How dare you! I would have… we could have….” She left the implication clear as she trailed off.

Fen’harel moved to sit more comfortably on the bed, leaving a good distance between him and the flustered red-head. “Relax,” he said, “I would never go any further with a woman without her express permission, especially not while she believes I am someone else.”

Elunysia eyed him appraisingly, frowning. “Is that so?”

“Why else would I have revealed myself?” he asked. She considered that and then nodded, visibly relaxing, but her frown remained. “I do apologize, of course, for the deception,” he continued. “I simply needed you to play along until Elgar’nan returns. Though he should be here any minute, I did not expect you to be quite so... _eager._ We shall have to wait for him…."

“You mean you want him to catch us like this? Are you _mad?”_ she asked.

Fen’harel merely shrugged. “Possibly.”

Elunysia studied him for a moment, incredulous. “I should leave, I know I should just leave right now, but... I must admit you’ve stimulated my curiosity.”

Fen’harel grinned cheekily. “An interesting choice of words.”

She shook her head impatiently. “Just tell me what you are playing at, or I shall leave _at once.”_

He nodded. “Of course. To put it simply: your lover believes himself superior to everyone else. I am simply attempting to prove him and his ardent followers wrong.”

“By seducing me?” she asked, brow raised. Naia could practically feel the young woman’s frustration and confusion as she questioned the shapeshifting god. She had several questions herself.

“By getting you into bed, which I have successfully achieved,” Fen’harel explained simply. “Those were the rules of the bet, after all. Dirthamen really should have been more specific with his choice of words.”

“What bet?” she asked.

“The one between Elgar’nan and myself,” he clarified. “He insists I am incapable of winning a woman to bed without telling a lie. He never mentioned anything, however, about altering my appearance.”

Elunysia did not look impressed. She stared at him accusingly. “...Is that what you do to women? Trick them into bed?”

“Certainly not,” he corrected her. “I already told you I would not attempt to bed a woman under false pretenses, contrary to what your _lover_ seems to think. Elgar’nan’s persistent ignorance and underestimation of me may just be his gravest mistake.”

This seemed to spark the woman’s interest. “How curious. ...Though I must admit I still don’t understand why you bothered to trick me at all. You could have attempted to genuinely seduce me, or indeed pursue another, more _available_ woman,” she noted.

Fen’harel sighed. “Sadly, My Lady, I do not have time for such trivial matters.”

“I see,” Elunysia said, narrowing her eyes at him. “This isn’t about a bet at all, is it?”

“What makes you say that?” he asked.

She leaned forward, resting one elbow on the bed and placing her chin on her fist. “Because you could have seduced any woman, but you deliberately chose the one woman Lord Elgar’nan prized above all else. You chose _me._ This isn’t about winning or losing; this is simply about humiliating the Lord of all Elvhenan. If I had to guess, I’d say that was something you’ve wanted for a long time; haven’t you, My Lord?”

He studied the young woman, thoroughly impressed by her conclusion. “You are clever,” he confessed. “Too clever for him. Keep that up and he will be sure to leave you.”

She frowned. “Why is that?”

“Elgar’nan does not particularly enjoy appearing less intelligent than his women.”

Elunysia suppressed a smile at that. “...While I appreciate the compliment, there is just one minor detail you’ve forgotten: Lord Elgar’nan is a very possessive, jealous lover. Do you know what he will do when he finds us in bed? They say even the other gods fear his wrath!” she exclaimed.

“Elgar’nan’s wrath does not concern me,” he commented confidently. “He willingly agreed to this bet in front of several witnesses. When he loses, he will have no choice but to honor our agreement and be done with it.”

“I do not think it is as simple as that, My Lord. He is the god of vengeance. If he feels there is cause for it, he will demand retribution, and then what?” she asked.

“You talk as though I have not thought this through,” he responded smugly. “Elgar’nan cannot pass any judgement on another god without his wife present,” Fen’harel noted with glee. “And while Mythal is perfectly aware of what occurs in this bed while she is absent, Elgar’nan does not know that. He will elect to maintain the secrecy of his infidelity.”

Elunysia frowned. “You may be right. Lord Elgar’nan may be unable to touch you, but did you even stop to think about what he might do to _me?_ I happen to enjoy having my head attached to my body, thank you very much!”

Fen’harel considered this for a moment, and then slowly transformed his appearance back into the form of Elgar’nan.

“There. Now all of the blame is on me,” he said, though this time he did not bother to disguise his voice.

Elunysia seemed appeased by that. “Well. I suppose when you put it like that…. Although I liked you much better the other way,” she admitted.

“Is that so?” he asked, visibly amused.

She smiled and looked away. “So what is the plan, then? Just wait until Lord Elgar’nan walks in on us?”

“That is the idea. You seem very invested all of a sudden,” he noted.

“...Perhaps I simply agree that he needs to be taught a lesson,” she confessed.

Fen’harel grinned at that. “I was hoping you might. And here I almost believed you were loyal to him.”

Elunysia smirked, proudly declaring, “I happen to be a wonderful actress.” She eyed the rebel god suggestively. “Do you know what would make this more convincing? If he actually caught us in the act.” She winked at him.

Fen’harel smiled politely. “A tempting offer, but I must decline at this time.”

 _“This time?”_ she repeated, brow raised.

He made no comment, but there was a hint of a smirk on his lips.

“Have it your way,” Elunysia said, and turned her attention back to idly fixing her hair. “But while we are waiting, I have to ask: what is it you were promised in return for winning this bet?”

“I simply requested public acknowledgment of his defeat. Nothing more, and nothing less,” Fen’harel informed her plainly. “And nothing,” he continued, “compared to what Elgar’nan has planned for me should I lose. But I shall not bore you with those details.”

“I see. A public acknowledgment which in turn will become public humiliation when it comes out that you stole Lord Elgar’nan’s woman,” Elunysia noted. “This really is just an elaborate effort to destroy his pride. You truly despise him, don’t you?” she asked, studying the god beside her.

Fen’harel considered the statement. “He is… not what you think,” he responded cautiously. “He is callous and greedy and… and mad with a power that he should not possess by any right.”

She watched him curiously. “You honestly believe that, don’t you? I wonder, though: do you believe your little plan will actually accomplish anything?” she asked. “Besides wounding Lord Elgar’nan’s pride, that is.”

“It is... a start,” he confessed, “A taste of things to come. Elgar’nan has no idea what is about to happen to this world, to his _empire.”_ Each word was filled with greater animosity, until Fen’harel seemed to remember himself and with whom he was talking. He was already revealing far too much to a woman he’d just met.

Elunysia’s eyes widened slightly. “Do go on, My Lord.”

“I….” He looked to be struggling with himself, like part of him wanted to say more, until finally, he croaked “...mustn’t.” And then a look of revelation dawned on his face, seeming to stun him for a moment. “That potion Dirthamen gave me…. He made me believe I was simply sacrificing my ability to lie. How could I be so foolish? He gave me a damned _truth potion_ and I willingly consumed it!” He glared at the woman in front of him, who acted genuinely surprised. “Is that why I feel the urge to reveal all my secrets?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, My Lord,” she said innocently.

“Enough!” he silenced her. “Dirthamen was the one who suggested this asinine bet to begin with! He predicted I would go to you, to spite Elgar’nan. I fell right into his trap, directly into the waiting arms of one of his _spies.”_

Elunysia folded her arms over her chest and huffed, accepting defeat. “Lord Dirthamen warned me you were clever.”

Naia watched wide-eyed at this new turn of events. She was certain that Fen'harel would dismiss the spy in his anger, giving up entirely on his foolish plan. Did that mean he would lose the bet?

But Fen’harel did not seem as angry as she’d expected. He let out a long sigh, rubbing his temples and calming himself. “Tell me, is Elgar’nan in on this plan?” he asked quietly.

“Oh, he has no idea,” replied the spy. “Lord Dirthamen sent me to spy on _him,_ originally, but he could not resist the chance to retrieve information from you as well. He knew you would see through any attempt to get you to talk, so the bet was the perfect excuse to administer the truth potion. And here we are.”

“Indeed,” he scowled.

“Oh come now, My Lord,” Elunysia said sweetly, her voice ever as lovely as her face, “You could be in a _much_ worse position than this.”

“I do not want to hear another word out of you,” the trickster god warned, eyeing her warily. “You will regret any attempts on your part to make me speak.”

“You’re not going to make me leave?” she asked in disbelief.

“Elgar’nan should be back any moment. I would appreciate it if you stayed until then. I may as well carry out my plan, now that I have come this far,” he explained. “But if you wish to leave, of course, I will not stop you.”

She grinned. “I wouldn’t dream of it. And we don’t have to do any talking, I promise.”

“You are a spy. You expect me to believe your promises?” he asked.

“Well,” she began, inching closer to him, “for one thing, it would be very difficult for you to talk with your mouth covered like that.”

His brow furrowed. “Like what?” And then, without warning, Elunysia moved in and covered his mouth with her own.

The startled god offered little resistance as the young woman began to explore the inside of his mouth in earnest, her hands slowly snaking around the back of his head. After a brief moment of hesitation, his hands found their way into her hair and she hummed in approval as she continued her explorations, her own hands roaming over his exposed chest.

Naia had not been expecting any of that to happen, though evidently neither had Fen’harel. Still, he did not seem to mind one bit, and she was filled with the unfamiliar urge to slap some sense into him. The tables had turned, and now he was the one being deceived. She did not trust Elunysia for a second, and she wanted the woman to take her hands off of the Dread Wolf immediately. But Naia could only watch helplessly until the scene came to its end, whatever that might entail.

Fen’harel’s lips found their way to Elunysia’s neck then, focusing his attention on a particular spot that caused the woman to gasp and then sigh. Hands wandered and things grew heated as Naia looked on in both shock and awe, finding it equally difficult to watch and to look away.

Just then, Elunysia paused to pull her garment down over her shoulders. It fell to her waist, fully exposing the woman’s breasts. Naia’s face turned about as red as Elunysia’s hair while she watched Fen’harel hungrily take in the sight before him. Surely the scene would not progress any further…. Wasn’t Elgar’nan expected back, after all?

Of course, for Fen’harel’s sake (what was he _thinking,_ honestly?), Naia suspected it would be better if Elgar’nan did not return at all. She was not entirely convinced that such an encounter would end well. But a part of her desperately hoped he would come and break up this act before the Dread Wolf did anything truly reckless.

Noticing her discomfort, Comfort let out a short laugh. “My dear, are you quite alright? I know for a fact that your mother explained the birds and the bees to you when you were eleven years old….”

Naia looked at her in disbelief. “I’m fine. I just... don’t think I should be watching this,” she responded a bit sheepishly. “Don’t you?”

“Relax,” said Comfort. “Even the most private of moments are kept private by the Well.”

Naia shook her head. “But this—”

“—Is nothing,” the false spirit informed her with a laugh. “Just a bit of harmless foreplay.”

Naia did not trust her, but she kept watching all the same. To her relief, Elunysia placed a hand on the man’s chest to stop him from moving any closer.

“What is it? Has Elgar’nan returned?” he asked, looking around expectantly.

She bit her lip, hesitant. “Not exactly. ...Aren’t you wondering what’s taking him so long?” she asked.

“...He is being stalled,” Fen’harel said, realizing with a scowl that he’d been duped once again.

“Yes,” she confirmed.

Fen’harel cursed. “Another part of Dirthamen’s plan, I take it.”

Elunysia smirked. “Naturally. He needed to ensure I had plenty of time to interrogate you.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Why are you telling me this?”

She grinned at him. “You’re smart. You would have figured it out eventually and I didn’t want to ruin the fun we’re having. After all, I happen to like you.”

“So you say,” he murmured, watching her cautiously. “Is Elgar’nan coming back at all this evening?”

“That depends on how successful he is. Right now he is out trying to win a bet, if you recall.”

Fen’harel could not help but laugh at the thought of that. “That is a shame. I should like to have seen him dressed as a commoner, patronizing the local taverns.”

Elunysia laughed as well. “So would I.” Her fingers trailed up his arm. “So, are you going to kick me out now that you know my sinister plan? Because I was hoping we could finish what we started.” She ignored Fen’harel’s skeptic look. “Listen, if Elgar’nan returns early, then your plan is still in tact and you get what you want. If he does not return at all, well,” she took his chin in her hand and pressed her lips to his. “Then _I_ get what I want.”

“Information out of me, in other words” he scoffed, eyeing her disapprovingly as she let go of his chin.

“I was thinking more along the lines of a memorable evening, but yes- that would be an added side benefit.” She moved in closer as she spoke, and Fen’harel hesitated, allowing her to continue until she had him right where she wanted him, trapped beneath her.

He had to end this now. Elunysia had just confessed her intention to pry the truth out of him, and Naia recalled that Dirthamen suspected him of harboring the escaped slaves. If Elunysia were to learn the truth, then she would surely tell Dirthamen, and the slaves had no hope.

Then again, perhaps _this_ was what the Dread Wolf had meant when he told her he’d failed the slaves. But it just seemed so foolish and imprudent, after everything that had happened, for him to succumb so easily to the wiles of a beautiful woman! He was smarter than that, wasn’t he?

If he were truly smart, he would simply walk away from his scheme and from the gorgeous, half-naked woman on top of him. Instead, he leaned up to catch her lips once more with his. Naia wanted to shout pointlessly into the pool of water in front of her.

Just then, mimicking his move from earlier, Fen’harel flipped them over so that he was on top again. “What else are you hiding from me?” he asked.

Elunysia hummed her approval. “So _you_ are to interrogate _me,_ then? All right, I’ll bite,” she said with a wicked grin, lowering her voice suggestively. “But only if you _beg.”_

 _“Stop,”_ he commanded, but this only made her grin wider. “Answer my question: what are you hiding?”

“Lots of things,” she replied proudly. “Lord Dirthamen may be master of secrets, but not even he knows all of mine.”

Fen’harel looked at her expectantly. “Well?”

“Well,” she said, leaning up to kiss him again, “for one,” and here she moved over to whisper in his ear, “You are a _much_ better lover than the real Lord Elgar’nan.” She caught the tip of his ear between her teeth. Fen’harel made a muffled but completely uninhibited noise then, causing Naia to wonder if the tips of his ears were extra sensitive. She tried not to dwell on that as she continued watching, enthralled.

“And that is saying something,” Elunysia continued, “considering you haven’t even brought me anywhere near completion. ...Although, come to think of it, neither has he.”

Fen’harel laughed at that, and then bit down playfully on her shoulder. “Perhaps I can do something about that….”

Elunysia hummed in contentment, closing her eyes as Fen’harel began to kiss the sensitive skin of her collarbone.

“Is there anything else I should know?” he asked between kisses.

“I suppose you should know,” she began casually, pausing to gasp as Fen’harel payed attention to a particularly sensitive spot on her skin, “that Lord Dirthamen suspects you’re involved somehow in the disappearances of the slaves.”

Fen’harel paused briefly. “Is that so?” he said in monotone, and then immediately continued his pursuit as if nothing were amiss.

“Yes-” Elunysia let out a moan as Fen’harel’s hand wandered toward the top of her inner thigh and then back down again. “ _Oh_ , yes.”

Naia was, at this point, completely confused and prepared to give up trying to understand what was happening or why she was seeing it. Comfort had assured her that nothing truly unsightly would happen, so either the Well was about to skip to another scene, or the two lovers were about to be interrupted. She wasn’t sure which one was the better outcome.

“And what do you think?” Fen’harel asked, his voice remaining disinterested. He returned his attention to her chest, then, his mouth gradually growing closer to the woman’s still-exposed breasts.

“I—ah—I don’t think you’re involved at all. After all, it’s not a very well-organized endeavor, is it?”

“Isn’t it?” he asked while still concentrating fully on the task in front of him.

“I don’t think so. Randomly freeing slaves one by one, with no rhyme or reason? That’s no way to combat slavery. If you want to take the system down, you must work within the system itself,” Elunysia said, stifling a moan as Fen’harel continued his descent. Naia looked away finally, focusing instead on a spot in the corner of the room. She was perfectly able to guess what was eliciting the sounds Elunysia made at this point.

Then the red-headed woman spoke again, as if they were having a perfectly ordinary conversation and not about to make love. “You set a large amount of slaves free, and then what? They need shelter, and food, and jobs. And where will they get all that?”

“Suppose someone is capable of providing it,” Fen’harel noted. He was saying too much. Naia knew he was saying too much, and perhaps he knew it too. Was that potion really so powerful that he could not stop himself? She glanced back at the two lovers worriedly.

“Only a god would be capable of that, My Lord,” Elunysia said matter-of-factly. “But not even a god could keep that up forever, and certainly not for every single slave alive, should they all eventually be freed. There’s simply too many of them. Whoever is freeing them is not thinking very far ahead, I think.”

“They could have something else in mind,” he said, still keeping his voice level and indifferent.

“Let’s say they do,” Elunysia continued her strangely relevant and well-prepared argument. “The slaves are taken care of, and then what? Now you have tens of thousands of families left without serving help, fending for themselves. Oh, of course they can learn to adjust, but that could take generations. It cannot be expected to happen overnight. Society would fall to chaos first. I say change the system from the _inside_ out, rather than overturn it entirely _._ Which, of course, might also take generations to achieve. So really, either solution would take the same amount of time, when you think about it. Only my way would cause far less suffering, I should think.”

He raised a brow. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this, haven’t you?”

“My mother was a slave,” she said plainly.

Fen’harel paused, stopping what he was doing entirely.

“I am sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be. She also ended up becoming a spy for Lord Dirthamen. She was his personal servant and lived most of her life in luxury. When she bore the child of a nobleman, Lord Dirthamen made sure I grew up in freedom and had a good education.”

“How _fortunate_ for you, then, that you were born a bastard and not a slave,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Tell me: how is that working for you?”

"Fantastically,” she responded proudly. “No one cares who your parents are when you have a face like mine.”

“No, but they might feel otherwise if that face were branded with slave markings,” he countered.

She frowned. “I suppose so.”

He turned away from her then. “But I have spoiled the mood, haven’t I?” He sat up, retreating from his formerly compromising position. “I think it is time to abandon my initial plan and conceive of a new one; one that does not involve divulging my secrets to a spy.”

Naia grinned to herself. Perhaps her fears had been misplaced, after all. The spy had not been able to draw any solid information out of the Dread Wolf.

Elunysia placed a hand on his arm as he tried to leave the bed.

“Wait, stay,” she pleaded, but he shrugged her off. She was not prepared to give up, however, as she wrapped her arms around him again.

This time, instead of pushing her away, Fen’harel froze, hushing her when she tried to speak.

“I hear someone.”

Just then, the doors to the room burst open, giving way to a defeated-looking, dressed-down Elgar-nan. He froze in place as he took in the sight before him: his lover, half-dressed and in the arms of… well, in _his_ arms. Fen’harel, still in his guise, smirked wildly as he revealed his true form. This time Elunysia _did_ shove the trickster god off of her, expertly feigning shock.

 _“What_ do you think you are _doing?”_

The Father of Elvhenan’s voice resounded furiously across the room, so loud that there was a slight echo to it. Naia could still hear it even after the image of Elgar’nan’s seething mad face faded from view.

_Oh, no._

No, this could not _possibly_ be good. The Well cut to another scene next, this time of an anxious-looking Fen’harel in a small room, pacing back and forth as if waiting for something or someone. His fate, perhaps?

What would become of him, then? If Fen’harel had predicted correctly, Elgar’nan might seek vengeance for this personal slight. But then he’d indicated that Elgar’nan could not punish him without Mythal’s consent. Perhaps Mythal would intervene, then. Perhaps everything would be fine….

Just then, the door to the room opened, and Mythal herself stepped in. Fen’harel stopped his pacing, watching her expectantly.

“Well, what do you have to say for yourself?” she asked him.

He frowned. “I know,” he began. Mythal did not let him finish.

“If you really _knew_ anything, then you would not have behaved like an _ass,”_ she declared, her tone coming off like a mother scolding her child. “My husband is out there demanding your head as recompense for your actions. It is all I can do to keep him from coming in here right now and satisfying his legendary wrath. But he knows as well as I that murder is out of the question, and a lengthier punishment would be more rewarding to him.”

“...And you are encouraging this idea?” Fen’harel asked, incredulous.

Mythal folded her arms over her chest. “What more do you expect from me? Nothing I say will convince him to back down. I am afraid you cannot talk your way out of this one, Fen’harel.”

“We shall see about that,” he declared defiantly. “If Elgar’nan has revealed the truth of his infidelity, then you can surely use that against his argument. You have more right to be angry with him than he is with me!”

Mythal shook her head impatiently. “Is that what you were counting on? That might have helped if Elgar’nan believed me completely ignorant of his little dalliances. Unfortunately for you, I caught him in the act a few years ago and did not even bother to feign surprise,” she said. A half-smile graced her lips then. “You should have seen the look on his face when I told him that while he’d been sleeping with other women, so was I.”

 _“Splendid,”_ Fen’harel said dryly, unamused. He sighed. “...Exactly how bad is this punishment?”

“To put it eloquently:” said Mythal plainly, pronouncing each word carefully, _“You. Fucked. Up.”_

His shoulders fell. “I see. What is to become of me, then?” he asked in a quiet voice.

“You should really be concerning yourself with how your actions affect those around you,” she said, lowering her voice to an angry whisper. “How many lives are you responsible for, Fen’harel? If you had bothered to take responsibility for your own, the safety of those lives would not be at risk right now.”

His eyes widened. “I… How did you….?”

She folded her arms, meeting his bewildered gaze with a knowing look. “Did you truly think you could hide anything from me, my rebel? Even Dirthamen has nothing on my spymaster.”

Fen’harel opened his mouth to comment, then closed it.

“Listen to me, _da’fen,”_ she continued, her tone softening slightly. “The others do not know the truth, but they _suspect._ While you were awaiting your judgement, they were plotting to infiltrate your castle and see what you are hiding. As soon as your punishment is carried out, as soon as you are in no position to defend your home, they will do just that.”

 _“Fuck,”_ said Fen’harel, mimicking Mythal’s self-proclaimed eloquence. He looked to her, his stormy grey eyes full of despair. “That cannot happen, Mythal. Countless people are dependent upon me; you must help!”

“I already have,” she informed him. “I just bought you some time by convincing Elgar’nan to let me draw up a magically-binding contract outlining your punishment in specific detail. That should give us a day, maybe two.”

“A… contract?” he repeated hesitantly.

“Yes. My _darling_ husband wanted to ensure that you would suffer great pain and humiliation, and that your punishment would be long-term. I came up with one that fit the crime so perfectly, he could not decline.”

He stared at her incredulously. “...Long-term? _Magically-binding?_ How exactly is any of this designed to _help_ me, Mythal?”

“Because, my dear, all contracts have loopholes,” she reminded him, yellow eyes gleaming as she revealed her clever plan. _“_ Yours shall even be hidden in plain sight. Elgar’nan already agreed to it; a condition which will null and void the contract, if and when you meet it. He is confident you will not, and convinced that you will remain under his control forever. He believes he has won, but I believe you will prove him wrong yet again.”

Fen’harel did not appear relieved. “You seem very sure of yourself,” he noted.

“I am. You must trust me, Fen’harel. This is your only option.”

He looked despondent. “I want to trust you, of course. But what of the slaves? What can I do for them within a day’s time? They will surely be discovered!”

She hummed pensively. “Why don’t you leave that to me, then? I will make certain no one finds them.”

“But where will you take them?”

“Where they will be safely hidden until such a time when they are completely free,” she replied. “I promise.”

Fen’harel’s shoulders relaxed a bit, but Naia could tell he was still a bit anxious. She was, too. And then the scene before her transformed once again, until she was staring at the same man. Only he was a man no longer. Six familiar, crimson eyes blinked at her, surrounded by black fur. Her Beast was back in his castle.

So this was his punishment, in the end. Had Mythal really been the one behind it all this time? Of course, it had been Elgar’nan, in his wrath, who executed said punishment, but Mythal herself had designed it and put it into place. And now here Fen’harel was, forever transformed and trapped and all alone.

But the contract was supposed to have a loophole, Mythal had said. This curse was supposed to have been broken long ago. So what went wrong? Why was Fen’harel still here?

Naia wished she could see this contract for herself. If she could just find this loophole, whatever it was, then she might actually be able to help Fen’harel, after all.

A sudden glow appeared beside her Beast just then, and Naia realized he was standing next to his eluvian, complete with the encrusted orb at the top that connected him to the Fade and to magic. A figure appeared on the other side of the eluvian, but remained there rather than travelling through. A familiar face took in the Beast with a frown.

 _“Isa’ma’lin,”_ Ghilan’nain said sadly, “What have they done to you?”

Fenharel turned towards the younger goddess. “You should not be here, Athimathe.Elgar’nan has forbidden anyone from conversing with me.”

Ghilan’nain folded her arms over her chest. “Unlike you, I have made no promises to Elgar’nan. I can talk with whomever I please.” She frowned again. “I only wish I could actually be there with you, so you aren’t in complete solitude.”

“I am not in complete solitude,” he reminded her.

“Right, there is the matter of the scared young thing who is probably hiding somewhere in your castle right now. Elgar’nan no doubt told her all sorts of tales of what you might do to her when he sent her here. The fearsome and terrible Dread Wolf.” She shook her head sadly. “I am so sorry, my friend.”

“Do not pity me, _da’len,”_ he said solemnly. “I needed to take responsibility for my actions sooner or later…. But soon enough I will be free of this cage, and then Elgar’nan will feel _my_ wrath as I restore freedom to this broken land of his.”

“I know you will, _isa’ma’lin._ I have complete faith in you,” she assured him, grinning. “Now go and show that poor young lady that you are not a monster. I will come back to talk with you another time,” she said.

The Dread Wolf nodded. “Thank you, my friend. Promise me you will be careful out there.”

She laughed. “Are you worried about me, Solas?”

“Always. I cannot protect you from here, you know.”

Ghilan’nain nodded. “I know. You worry too much; I will be fine. _Dar’eth!”_ And with that, she disappeared from sight.

There was an uneasiness in the Beast’s eyes as he watched his most trusted friend fade away. And as Naia recalled the plot devised by Andruil to kill Ghilan’nain, she grew uneasy as well. She expected she would see the resolution of that plot next, but then the Well turned back into a regular pool of water, and Naia was left staring at her own reflection, her brows drawn together in worry. She turned to Comfort.

“Where is the rest?” she asked.

“I’m afraid that is all, _da’len,"_ Comfort replied. "I brought you to see the Dread Wolf’s story, and now you have seen it.”

“But what about Ghilan’nain’s story? What happened to her?” she asked, thinking of the danger the goddess was sure to face. “Or the slaves? Where did they go? And what of the other gods? Fen’harel told me he tricked and trapped them. When did that happen? _How_ did that happen?”

Comfort sighed. “That is another, more complicated tale, I’m afraid. And one day you will hear that tale, too. But at least now you know the truth about the Dread Wolf.”

Naia frowned. “I suppose that is true. But I still don’t know how to help him. If only I knew what was in that damned contract!”

“Don’t you?” Comfort asked.

Naia looked at her pointedly. “What do you mean?”

“Only that you know more than you realize,” she said. “And I am afraid that is all I can say about that.”

“I see,” said Naia. “So you cannot talk about the contract, either. Well, at least I know part of the contract involves preventing those who know of it from speaking of it.” She thought about everything else she’d learned so far. “I also know this contract must be the reason Fen’harel is trapped, unable to leave the castle, or change his shape, or… or tell a lie, I think. And now I know that he can be freed under one condition. Only I don’t know what that condition is.”

“Good. What else?” Comfort asked. Naia pondered for a moment. What else had she gleaned that might give her more insight into this contract?

There was the matter of the mysterious “young lady” Ghilan’nain had mentioned. The Dread Wolf’s first bride, perhaps? Ghilan’nain had said that Elgar’nan sent the girl to the castle himself. Perhaps that had been part of the contract, too….

“Did the Dread Wolf bring me here because of his obligation to the contract? Is my imprisonment even beyond his control?” she wondered aloud.

Comfort said nothing, but Naia was convinced she was on to something. If she was right, then the Dread Wolf’s brides had not only been taken against their will, but also against the will of the Dread Wolf himself. He was innocent, or at least as innocent as he could be, given the fact that he’d basically brought this whole punishment upon himself. What Naia could not understand was why innocent young girls needed to be punished for his crime as well. Had that been Elgar’nan’s doing, perhaps? She could not imagine Mythal adding that bit to the contract. It seemed unnecessarily cruel.

Whatever the reason, she was here in this castle because of that contract, not because of her Beast. And though she refused to let that stop her from trying to leave, she knew that if she just stayed a little bit longer, she might have a chance to learn more. Maybe she could research “magically-binding contracts” in the library. Or maybe the contract itself was hidden somewhere in the castle!

“I think I understand now why you wanted me to see the rest of this story,” Naia said to Comfort after a moment. She turned to her friend. “Fen’harel was...  flawed. Just like any man or woman. But he had a heart full of compassion for an oppressed people, and he tried to help them. And I still don’t know exactly what happened to them, but at least he tried. He did his part, even if, in the end, his flaws became his undoing. His _pride_ became his undoing…. And because of that, he is still at the mercy of Elgar’nan’s wrath, after all this time; he cannot help that. But maybe _I_ can help _him.”_

Comfort smiled hopefully. “Does this mean you’ll stay?”

“For now,” Naia replied. “Now that I know what I’m up against, I can at least attempt to use that knowledge to help my Beast. I don’t know how long it will take, or even if I’ll be able to make a difference. Still, I can try.”

“I am glad to hear it,” said Comfort.

 

* * *

 

Day broke over the island. The rain had stopped, leaving the leaves and the grass glistening in the morning sun. The sky was painted all in pink and orange hues, and the warm glow embraced Naia’s skin as she rose from her slumber, fully refreshed and ready for a new day.

She went straight to the library after breakfast, a cup of coffee still in hand. She expected to have much reading to do, if she wanted to learn about magical contracts. She did not, however, expect her Beast to be there.

Naia approached him carefully, the memory of their last conversation still fresh in her mind. She was not sure how he would act, or if he would lash out at her again. She could not help him if he did not want to be helped, she reminded herself.

 _“On dhea,”_ she greeted amiably in their native tongue.

“Good morning, Mademoiselle Lavellan,” he replied in perfectly formal French. It sounded cold and distant, though his tone was cordial enough.

Naia hesitated, fidgeting for a bit. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, not entirely sure what to say.

The Dread Wolf took in a deep breath. “If I may,” he began softly, meeting her eyes, “...I believe I owe you an apology for my behavior last night.”

Naia raised her brows in genuine surprise. That was… an unexpectedly great place to start. “...I accept your apology,” she replied.

He nodded. “Excellent. Though I do not expect things to go back to the way they were, at least we can put that behind us.” He eyed the cup of coffee in her hand. “I shall leave you to your business, then.”

“Wait,” she interjected. “Last night was…” Unpleasant. Unsettling. Upsetting. “...Confusing,” she finished. “But I’ve had some time to think about it, and I think I can understand your point of view.”

“My _point of view?”_ he repeated. “Naia, last night you uncovered all of my demons, all the ghosts of my past that still haunt me. You have seen the innocent women made to suffer for my sins, just as you suffer now. From my point of view, you should be preparing to run far, far away.”

She stared at him a moment. “...Would you stop me, if I did?”

“I am afraid it is not a matter of _would_.”

“So you would if you could?” she asked, though she was sure she knew the answer, now. He could not stop her if she tried to leave, and he fully expected her to do that, once the halla returned.

“...I need you here,” he said simply, looking away. “I cannot say why.”

“I know why,” she replied plainly. “It’s because of the contract, isn’t it?”

He turned back to her, a mixture of confusion and shock in his eyes. “How do you know about the… the… the _thing?”_ he said, seemingly frustrated by his limited vocabulary. Another side effect of the contract, naturally.

“I always knew you were under some sort of spell, or curse, but I never guessed there was an actual _contract_ involved,” Naia mused, ignoring his question. “And the brides, I know they were–or _we_ are–a part of it. I just don’t know how, or why.”

The Dread Wolf was speechless for a moment. “I am so sorry,” he finally said, his voice full of remorse. “You must know that I never intended to involve anyone else in my own… personal plight.”

Naia shrugged. “I am over it, and you should be, too. Instead of wallowing in self pity, I’ve decided to take action. That is why I came to the library this morning: to learn about magical contracts and see if I can find a loophole.”

He laughed humorlessly. “In the centuries that I have been here, I have already tried everything you can imagine to get myself out of this… thing.”

She frowned. “You don’t think I can help you…. But you seemed to think I could before,” she realized, recalling some of their past conversations. “So what changed? Why did you suddenly lose hope?”

He studied her curiously, a slight smile on his visage. “I do not believe I have lost _all_ hope, in fact,” he said. “...No matter how much of a cynic I have become in my old age.”

She laughed. “Well I’m glad for that, then.” She looked around at the endless rows of books surrounding them. “Call me an optimist; I am going to do some research, anyhow, and you are more than welcome to keep me company.”

He nodded politely. “I do not believe I could ever turn down your company, _lethallan.”_

Naia smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I don’t even have an excuse for that first scene, kiddos. I wrote it a long time ago, and I guess I just wanted to keep things interesting. Espionage and sex is about as interesting as it gets, I suppose, even though there is no actual sex here. Full disclosure: I have never written a sex scene and I am still not sure if there is room for a real one in the future of this story. If it feels right, I may, but I can’t make any promises there. Either way, Naia and Solas ain’t ready for all that yet, so this will have to suffice for now. Plus, who doesn’t love some sexytimes!Fen’harel? ~~(and at least now Naia has ideas in her head, amirite?)~~
> 
> On an unrelated note, I feel like I need a disclaimer for some of the vocabulary I use in this story. It's atrocious, really, how bad I am at using period-appropriate speech and narrative. My disclaimer therefore lies entirely on my ability to claim "but I'm translating from French/Elvhen, technically!" ...I thank you all for overlooking this flaw of mine and understanding that I am not, in fact, perfect (who knew?) ;)


	25. Chapter Twenty Four

The rest of the morning was spent in the library, quietly perusing the shelves. The Dread Wolf remained present, but did not speak unless spoken to. Naia was grateful for that; while she was much more comfortable in his presence today than yesterday, she was not certain she was ready for more than polite small talk.

Perhaps the Beast was right in that regard: things between them could not exactly go back to how they had been. Everything had been so much simpler before, back when she knew much less than she did now. Knowledge was both a blessing and a curse, after all, but Naia was determined to make it a blessing today as she began her research.

Researching magic meant she would need to locate books that were far older than the rest, since those were more likely to be of Elvhen origin. It did not take long to find these, as they were considerably larger than all the others, each one handwritten rather than printed on a press. The trouble was there were at least a hundred of them, maybe two hundred or even more, all situated in one specific corner of the library.

The ancient tomes were heavy, much heavier than they looked. Bound in leather, the covers were each imprinted with a unique and beautiful design, from floral patterns to mythical creatures. Naia noticed after a moment that they all shared one peculiar trait: a pair of human eyes hidden within the design. It was strangely fascinating, almost as if the books were looking back at her. It filled her with a mix of wonder and mild unease, until she opened them, and then they were just books again.

Amazingly, the pages were not worn or frayed in any way. It was as if they had been frozen in time by magic, just like the rest of this castle. The text was written in the most elegant calligraphy, and, thankfully for Naia, magically translated into French. The titles of each book promised a fascinating read, everything from ancient Elvhen law to history and even poetry. And, naturally, there were books on magic. Naia singled these out immediately, but it hardly seemed to lower the quantity. There were still roughly eighty tomes for her to go through. She sighed as she eyed the tiny table that would be useless to her cause, and then began spreading some of the books out over the library floor.

It proved to be quite a difficult task to keep herself from getting lost in the pages. Naia had to remind herself, on occasion, that she was on a mission and not here to study the ins and outs of magical theory. She tried her best to skim the pages for the word “contract,” or anything similar, but it seemed impossible to find. Hours passed before she found even one instance of the word, and even then it was not a very informative passage.

The clock chimed noon then, and Naia realized the Beast had been awfully quiet. She looked up from her work to find that he had actually fallen asleep.

 _Poor thing probably needed it,_ she thought. She stood and dusted herself off, then decided that she could use a good walk, and left the Dread Wolf sleeping beside the scattered, open books.

  

* * *

 

That afternoon consisted of more of the same. The Beast came and went throughout, occasionally asking her if she needed anything. She was determined to get as much work done as possible in one day, considering the sheer amount of pages she’d need to go through. And she didn’t have anything better planned today, anyhow.

She worked through sundown, occasionally getting up to take a turn about the room and stretch her legs. Then the clocked chimed seven, and she realized it was dinnertime.

Dinner had been, in a way, a sacred time for the two of them. They’d spent it together almost every evening from the start. Some of their best conversations had taken place at that table, even. Naia supposed it gave her a strong sense of normalcy, to share such an ordinary, daily pastime.

That night it didn’t feel quite as normal. It almost felt forced, like she was only there so as not to be rude. A part of her wanted to grab a baguette and some chocolate and head back to the library, to distract herself with more reading until the halla returned. Instead, she sat there, chewing her food slowly and in total silence.

Even though Naia had ultimately decided not to leave the castle right away, she still found herself a bit anxious to see her family again. The very idea of it had seemed so far away until recently. Pretty soon she would be sitting and dining with them instead, trading this grand table for a campfire under the open sky. The thought was both comforting and exciting, but she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t grown accustomed to life in a castle. And she supposed if she’d waited this long to see her family, she could stand to wait some more.

She finished her food and excused herself without another word, and suddenly it felt like they were back at the beginning again. Naia simply did not have much to say, and she could tell the Beast was being careful around her. Neither enemies nor friends, it was as if they were merely two strangers living together.

But they were not strangers, and that was never going to change. Even if, one day, they faded out of each other's lives for good, Naia knew that the Dread Wolf had made too great an impact to ever truly leave her heart and mind. She cared about him too much, and she was certain he cared greatly about her, too. That thought was comforting, somehow, and she went to sleep that evening with a sense of calm.

 

* * *

 

There was no Fade that night, simply sweet, peaceful sleep accompanied by a vague but pleasant dream that Naia’s consciousness chased after fruitlessly upon waking. The dawn was just breaking as she rose from her bed and stretched her limbs. She smiled at the bright yellow dress that was hanging in her armoire, as if the castle were reminding her that the sun was shining today. She would have to make a point to go outside and enjoy it.

The same sense of calmness from last night surrounded her again this morning as Naia headed down to the dining room. There was a fresh cup of black coffee waiting for her. She took a sip before grabbing some bread and slathering it with butter. Then she carried her food over to the library to get more work done.

The library was empty, and for most of the morning, she did her research in complete solitude. She tracked two more instances of the word “contract” during that time, but nothing instructing on how to get out of one. Towards the end of the morning, the Beast wandered in, greeting her cordially.

“And how are we faring today?” he asked politely.

She looked up from the book she was holding. “No better than yesterday, I’m afraid.”

He took a seat beside her on the ground and glanced over her shoulder at the open page.

“Ah, yes,” he said, badly feigning interest, “the intricacies of harvesting fungi for potion-making purposes.”

A smile crept across her face at that. “Who knew there were so many unique ways to prepare a mushroom?”

“Well, these details are crucial if you do not wish to end up with a deadly poison on your hands,” he commented matter-of-factly.

She hummed pensively. “It’s a good thing I don’t have many enemies, then, with that sort of knowledge at my fingertips.”

The Beast grinned. “Being at enmity with you would be a fool’s errand, and I fear for anyone who might entertain the idea.”

She shook her head with a grin, and then returned her gaze to the book, turning the page. There were detailed sketches of deep mushrooms all over this one and the next. Naia groaned softly.

“I’m not sure how much more I can take of mushrooms, actually,” she confessed.

“Then perhaps you wouldn’t mind a stroll about the gardens with me, for a spell,” the Beast commented. She glanced up at him.

“No, I don’t think I should mind that at all,” Naia said with a breath of relief. She carefully creased the corner of the page she’d left off at and then closed the book.

 

* * *

  

They walked in silence for a short while, simply enjoying the sun and the fresh air, and before long, they were chatting amiably again. Naia absentmindedly plucked a flower as they were talking, not realizing at first that it was an embrium. The vibrant, orange petals reminded her once more of her fate, and the journey that led her here. It was an adventure that might soon be coming to a close. She had changed so much throughout it, while the flowers in this garden remained entirely the same, unchanged by the effects of time. She wondered if the Beast had changed, too.

If Fate was kind, and her hard work actually paid off, perhaps the Beast would not be a beast for much longer. That would certainly be a drastic change, but one that was greatly needed, for the Dread Wolf’s sake. He didn’t deserve what had happened to him. He deserved to be a man again.

“What do you expect you’ll do, if—or when—you break free of this contract?” Naia asked casually as they strolled. He looked at her with unreadable eyes.

“That is a question I have contemplated for centuries,” he replied softly, allowing the corner of his mouth to turn upward after a moment. “There would be a few things for me to take care of first, of course, but after that…. After that I would be free to go anywhere I like, and do anything I desire.”

She smiled encouragingly. “Like what? If you could do anything at all, what would it be?”

He paused. “All things considered, I still cannot say where I would even begin. There would be so much to do.... I suppose, ultimately, I would like to travel the world, and explore all that it has to offer.”

It sounded like a dream to Naia. She tucked a coil of hair behind her ear. “I’ve always wanted to travel the world,” she admitted.

He grinned. “Yes, I seem to remember you mentioning that once or twice.”

“Maybe… Maybe we could do that together, one day,” she suggested. She wasn’t quite sure why she did. “That is, of course, if my family were alright with letting me go,” she quickly amended. “Only I don’t think they would, not after….” She trailed off, thinking about how that might play out, should it ever come to that. The way she’d left her family so suddenly, without their knowledge or approval, hadn’t been fair to them. She couldn’t do that to them a second time.

“Of course,” the Dread Wolf said clearly. “Your family needs you. I would not dream of getting in the way of that again.”

“Of course,” she repeated, realizing with chagrin that leaving the Dread Wolf’s castle did not mean she would necessarily be _free._ She still had her familial duties to attend to, and now that her family was back with Clan Lavellan, she might have clan-related duties added on top of that. She would not be free to do exactly what she pleased, or go wherever she dreamed of going.

They strolled and chatted for a bit more before going back inside, where Naia resumed her research. The Beast was there for some of the time, quietly supporting her and never overcrowding her. If she were being honest, it felt good to be relaxed in his presence again. Between today and the next, they actually fell back into an easy routine.

It was during another stroll in the gardens the next afternoon, two full days since Anverelan’s departure, when the halla finally returned bearing the letter Naia had been eagerly expecting. Finally, she would hear from her family.

She took the letter from round the halla’s antler and unfolded it, smiling at Laleal’s familiar handwriting. He was the only other one in the family who could read and write, thanks to Naia’s persistent tutelage.

But then she read the words, and her heart sank.

 

_Dearest Naia,_

_We were all very happy to hear from you, naturally. But I write to you today with grave news. Father has taken ill. He has not woken up in almost a full day's’ time. We fear he may be at death’s door. You should be here, by his side. Tell that Beast I don’t care how nice he might be. Keeping a girl from her family is wrong. We need you, Naia. At the very least, please keep in touch._

_Your devoted brother,_

_L_

 

Naia placed a hand against the halla’s back, to steady herself. The Dread Wolf surely saw the look of pure devastation on her face.

“What is it?” he asked.

“He hasn’t woken up in a full day,” Naia repeated the dreadful words, barely able to grasp their meaning. She couldn’t bring herself to believe that her father might actually be _dying._ How could this have happened?

The Dread Wolf stared at her quietly, concerned, and she realized she hadn’t yet said _whom._ “...My father,” she clarified.

His eyes widened. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking downward.

Naia just nodded and stared at the letter in her hands again, hoping the words might magically change, that she had somehow read them wrong. She read them over and over again, unmoving, until they became a blur.

Then a quiet but clear voice broke her out of her trance. “You must go to him,” the Beast said.

The words were so unexpected that she failed to process them right away. “What?”

“Go to him,” he repeated simply. “Your father needs you.”

Naia knew she should be relieved to hear those words, and would have been, had they not caught her off guard so completely. All she could say instead was, “I thought you couldn’t let me go. The contract….”

He nodded. “Let’s just say… I discovered a loophole.”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Are you serious?”

He hesitated, and she thought she detected a hint of lament in his voice as he said, “I am indeed being most serious. Naia Lavellan, I release you from your father’s promise. You are no longer my prisoner nor my bride.”

Her heart nearly leapt at those words, and she wanted to thank him, but something stopped her. Something didn’t quite add up. She needed to be sure he wasn’t mistaken, or putting her on, or... or she didn’t know what.

“Just like that?” she questioned.

“Just like that,” he replied.

It seemed too easy. How could he have found a loophole so suddenly, when she’d been working so hard to find one for him, to no avail? Where had this come from?

Part of her knew she shouldn’t be questioning this; she should be thrilled. The Dread Wolf had given her so much, but the one thing she ever truly wanted from him was this. Her _freedom._ He was finally letting her go. But hadn’t she just recently learned that he couldn’t, under obligation to the contract, let any of his brides leave? He’d kept them here in his castle for the entirety of their lives, if only because he’d had no other choice. What had happened, then, to suddenly allow her to go free? Or perhaps… perhaps nothing had happened _yet._

Naia studied him, eyebrows knit together. “What aren’t you telling me?” she asked worriedly.

He was silent, refusing to meet her eyes, which only confirmed her concerns.

"Please, _ara ghest,”_ she pleaded, using her personal endearment for him once again.

He looked at her with a solemn expression.“It is nothing you need concern yourself over, _lethallan.”_

Her shoulders fell. That was not what she wanted to hear. “How can you say that?” she asked, trying but failing to remain calm. “If it has to do with you, then of course I’m concerned!”

He shook his head sadly. “It does not matter anymore. I have made up my mind, and I refuse to hold you here against your will. You deserve your freedom,” he said, turning away from her. “...No matter the cost.”

The _cost?_ Naia did not like the sound of that. What sort of cost did he mean, and who exactly would be paying it?

“What do you mean by that?” she asked, narrowing her eyes slightly when he would not turn around and face her. “Answer me! What exactly are you exchanging in return for my freedom?”

He sighed and turned back towards her. “Even if I could tell you the answer, which I cannot, it would only upset you,” he said.

“Well it’s too late for that!” she exclaimed. “I have to know you will be alright, after I leave. If you let me go… does the contract demand you let go of something else? Is that it?” When he didn’t respond, she nodded, frowning. “That’s it, then. But what? What else do you have to give, besides….” She trailed off, watching her Beast desperately, hoping he might say _something,_ but knowing he could not. “... _Your freedom,”_ she said finally, the words heavy on her tongue. She knew, even without him saying it, that it must be true. “Please tell me you are not giving up your chance to finally break this curse! Tell me you aren’t sacrificing your freedom for mine....”

He hesitated, leaning slightly forward, almost as if he wanted to reach out and touch her but then remembering he was a wolf and could not.

“I would sacrifice _everything_ for you, _da’halla.”_ he said quite seriously.

The words filled Naia’s heart and overwhelmed her. She didn’t know what to say. He was offering her everything by forfeiting everything he had. How could she take that from him? Was there really no other way?

“...I couldn’t ask you to do that,” she said quietly.

“You do not need to ask anything of me,” he said simply, his tone and his words confirming that the decision was final. There was no going back. “Just as I will not ask anything of you, ever again. Except for a brief moment to say goodbye, if you will.”

Goodbye. This was really happening, wasn’t it? She was really leaving, then.

Naia nodded, smiling sadly. “Of course we can say goodbye, _ara ghest._ But it won’t be forever _._ I’ll come back for you, I promise,” she assured him.

He paused, then said in a small voice, “There is no need for any more promises between us, _lethallan.”_

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Naia replied, holding back the tears that threatened to form. As if she could ever leave him for good.

She reached a hand out and gently stroked the side of his face. His crimson eyes were trained on her and seemed full of sorrow. It wasn’t goodbye forever, but she did not know how long her family would need her nor how soon she’d be returning to the castle. She combed her fingers through the soft fur, then slid both hands up and around his giant neck, burying her face in the fur there. She held onto him for a good minute while breathing in his scent, letting the soft hairs tickle her face. Trying not to feel sorrowful as well.

“Naia,” he sighed, instinctively nuzzling his head towards hers.

She pulled back and met his gaze with teary eyes. “I will be back,” she promised again, letting go of him.

“Wait,” he breathed. “Not like this. ...Would you permit me to say goodbye to you as a man and not a beast?”

She bit her lip and nodded. “Of course.” Of course he should get to say goodbye to her in the Fade. She wouldn’t deny him, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to look into those stormy eyes again, to feel his arms around her once more. Even if it wasn’t real. She would take the memory of it with her when she left, something to remind her of what was waiting here for her.

 

* * *

 

They went inside and found their usual nook in the library, where they promptly laid down and closed their eyes. And before Naia knew it, they were in the Fade again.

They stood in a grassy field by a shimmering lake, the same spot he’d shown her once before, only this time it was daylight, with not a cloud in the sky. Naia liked it here; it was calm and serene, and there was no sign of human life around as far as she could see. Just her and nature and Solas.

The space between them was maybe three or four steps, but already it felt as if they were leagues apart. Naia shifted her weight from one leg to the other.

“Well, this is it, I suppose,” she said.

Solas nodded. Naia took a deep breath, her arms hanging awkwardly at her sides. She didn’t know how to say goodbye, or even where to start. But she didn’t need to; Solas slowly took a few strides forward, meeting her eyes, and she was struck by a sudden, desperate longing to be held. And then, as if sensing her need, his arms were around her.

He held onto her as though she were keeping him grounded. Naia returned the embrace in full, heart pounding and eyes shut tight for fear of letting more tears escape. Solas buried his face in her thick curls and breathed deep, gently trailing his hands over her back and sending tingles up and down her spine. His embrace was solid, and warm, and far more intimate than any brief and friendly hug they’d shared before. She sighed in his arms and tried not to think about the rest of the world for the moment.

 _“Da’halla,”_ he called softly, his velvet voice caressing her ears as he let go of her. He kept his hands on her shoulders while vivid, grey eyes gazed fondly into hers. “I want you to know how grateful I am to have met you. Before you came into my life, I had almost entirely given up on believing I could ever be free. I thought I would remain a lonely and forgotten Beast, trapped in this castle, never to awaken. But you awakened in me a hope I thought I’d lost forever. In the short time I have known you, you made me believe again that I had a chance to change my fate, to change _everything._ And even though it has come to this, in the end….’ He paused, eyes glazing over for a moment before regaining focus. Then he blinked, and smiled at her. “I believe it was all worth it. Being with you has provided me the utmost joy, and I would not trade that for anything. I know I should regret your unfair and unwilling involvement in my own personal trials, but instead I cannot help but cherish these past few months. They are dear to me. _You_ are dear to me,” he said, reaching out to cup her face in his hand. She leaned into the touch and smiled, though the feeling was bittersweet. He was making it increasingly difficult to say goodbye.

“I don’t regret it either,” she said, placing her hand over his. “I’ve learned so much from you, and grown so much, and I…. Truth be told, I cannot bear to say goodbye to you,” she confessed, biting her bottom lip. “So I won’t,” she said confidently, “Because this isn’t goodbye, Solas. We will see each other again.” She took his hand and intertwined his fingers with hers, letting her words hang in the air between them, a promise of things to come. She didn’t know what the future held, but she felt certain that Solas would be a part of hers, come what may.

Solas looked as if he wanted to say more, but he pressed his lips together into a thin line. His gaze fell to their hands, still intertwined, and seemed to fixate on them for a moment. Then he looked up at her again. “Whatever happens, _da’halla,_ I want you to know the truth before you go,” he said. “I do not expect you to return, you see.” Naia looked at him pointedly, about to protest, but he stopped her. “I know you say otherwise, but you should know that I still do not expect it, simply because I am not asking it of you. Neither am I asking for anything in return when I tell you what you are about to hear.” He held both of her hands in his now, gazing intently into her eyes. His own eyes were a storm of mixed emotions in one instant, then a sea of calm the next. _“Ar lath ma.”_

Time itself seemed to stop in that moment. Only her beating heart moved forward, setting a steady rhythm as Solas’ words repeated over again in her mind. _Ar lath ma. Ar lath ma._ I love you.

“I....” she began, but could not find the words. What could she say? He loved her, but he’d made it clear that he was not asking for her love in return. He loved her, even though he’d tried just the other day to convince her otherwise. _He loved her,_ and though she did not know if she could say the same, at least not here and not now, the words still filled her with inexplicable joy. “Solas, I….” She paused, shook her head, and started again. “You may not expect me to return, but I could never abandon you, not after everything you have done for me, and… and everything you are giving up for me….”

Her eyes grew wet with tears again as she thought about what the Dread Wolf was giving up. He would never be free of his punishment, and there was nothing she could do to change that. She’d only just begun trying to find a way to set him free, and now she was leaving him at a time when he needed her most. But her father needed her more. And it tore her up inside. She blinked away the tears and steadied her breathing. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to my father, but I am going to remain hopeful for his recovery.”

“Yes, as am I,” Solas agreed.

She nodded. “He will recover. He has to,” she said, not ready to think about what would happen if he didn’t. “And then… then, as soon as my father is better, I will come back and stay here with you. For as long as you need me.”

Solas shook his head, saying nothing for a moment. Then, simply, _“Ir abelas.”_ She didn’t know what he was apologizing for, but then he closed his eyes and gently leaned his forehead against hers, and they stayed like that for a while, their hands still connected.

Finally, he pulled away. “You must go. Your family needs you and you should not waste another minute on me,” he said. _“Dareth Shiral, vhenan.”_

He was right, of course, but she still hadn’t been fully prepared for his farewell (or for the surprisingly sentimental endearment that followed it). Suddenly she felt his grip on her consciousness loosen, felt her body begin to stir in the waking world before she was quite ready. And in the instant before her mind faded from the Fade completely, she quickly and determinedly leaned forward and pressed her lips to his cheek, firmly, to be sure he felt it before she disappeared….

...And then she was awake, her head still resting against the side of her Beast’s body. She pushed herself up slowly, and the Dread Wolf rose to his feet as well, watching as she made her way silently towards the library doors. She looked back as she reached them.

“There is one last thing,” he said then.

She watched him expectantly.

“The halla,” he continued solemnly. “Keep her with you, safe from harm. Take care of her…. Find her name, if you can. Just promise me you will protect her, no matter what.”

Naia nodded firmly. “Of course.”

Then the Dread Wolf did something unexpected. He bowed, lowering the front of his body to the ground, and then rose again.

Naia lowered her own head in acknowledgment and said, _“Sule tael tasalal.”_

And then she turned and walked away, finally making her way out of the castle and into the brilliant sunlight.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovely readers! I hope everyone's enjoying Fall so far. This chapter was almost as difficult to write as it was for Naia and Solas to say goodbye T.T But their story is not yet over! I'm hoping to get the next chapter up before the end of this month. ;) See you then.
> 
> Sule tael tasalal means "Until we meet again"


	26. Chapter Twenty Five

Naia had forgotten how fast the halla travelled. Within minutes, they were at their destination, surrounded by forest on all sides. She could only assume the entrance to the camp was nearby.

She dismounted the halla and looked around. There was a chill in the air, and Naia realized with a shiver that she was a bit underdressed. It was still March, if she recalled correctly, but spring should be here any day. Pulling her shawl tightly around her body, she made her way through the bare trees and towards the faint sound of voices, leading the halla alongside her.

After several paces, the trees began to clear and they came across two bored-looking young Dalish men, having a quiet conversation. They started when they noticed the halla.

“By the Creators!” one of them exclaimed. They both stared at the halla, barely noticing Naia was there. She laughed.

 _“Savhalla, lethallen,”_ she greeted.

One man turned to her and blinked, then squinted, scrunching his freckled nose. “Naia? Is that really you?”

“It’s me,” she replied, realizing after a moment that she knew both of these young men. Only they had been boys the last time she’d seen them, just a bit older than Laleal. “Is that really little Fenvir and Ilvin?”

“Not so little anymore,” Fenvir said with a proud grin.

Naia smiled. “Indeed! It’s good to see you both.”

Ilvin inched towards the halla. “Do you think I could…?” he began, eyeing Naia.

“She likes being scratched under the jaw,” she replied with a wink.

Ilvin reached out a hand and softly patted the creature’s head. Naia turned to Fenvir.

“Where is my father?” she asked tentatively.

Fenvir gestured back towards the camp. “I saw them bring him into Keeper Anverelan’s tent.”

Naia nodded solemnly. _“Ma serannas.”_ She turned to Ilvin, who had found the halla’s sweet spot, right beneath the jaw.

Perhaps she shouldn’t bring the halla into the camp. Judging by the reactions of these two boys, the clan had not yet been exposed to her. Perhaps Anverelan had kept her hidden somehow when he returned here. Naia was actually grateful for that. It would be better, then, if the halla stayed secret for now. Suddenly having an extinct, magical creature walking amongst a Dalish camp might cause too much commotion.

“Will you watch her for me, Ilvin?” she asked. “Just for a few hours? I need to be sure she’s safe.”

Ilvin nodded. “I will guard her with my life,” he said quite seriously.

There were several tents set up in the clearing, all hitched to wagons. One of them was larger than the others. Naia made her way straight to it, ignoring the looks from the other clanspeople. She hadn’t thought about how out of place she must look, still wearing her fancy shemlen garments.

She could see a man and a woman talking outside the tent, and as Naia got closer she realized they were actually her two youngest siblings.

“Nehna, Laleal!” she called. They turned at the sound of her voice, and their faces lit up instantly. Laleal ran to meet her, nearly knocking her over.

She embraced him tightly, then pulled back to get a better look at him. To her surprise, she was looking _up_ at her little brother.

“Laleal, you’re taller than me!” she said incredulously. “I was gone for _three months,_ not three years!”

Laleal laughed at that. “It’s good to see you too, big sister,” he said with a voice that was already beginning to deepen and change. Her baby brother was growing far too fast. She reached up and mussed his short, chestnut-colored hair.

“At least I can still do that,” she said with a grin. “You aren’t allowed to get any taller, understand?”

There was a tugging on her dress just then.

“Oh my gods, this is so beautiful!” Nehna exclaimed. She was grasping the satin skirts of Naia’s gown in her hands.

Naia laughed. “Honestly, is that all you think about?” she asked. Then she winked, lowering her voice, “You and Enasta can share it. I won’t be needing it anymore.”

Nehna gasped and then gave Naia a big hug.

“I’m so glad you’re back!”

Naia returned the hug in full, then looked back at the tent worriedly. “Yes, well.... Now that I am back, how is father?”

Laleal shook his head. “No change since I wrote you. Come and see.”

Inside, her father was lying on a bed of some flat-looking cushions, his head elevated and his body covered with several blankets. Enasta and Anverelan were there, sitting by his side and talking quietly amongst themselves. They looked up when she entered.

Enasta stood immediately. Her thick curls bounced and moved out of her face, revealing the familiar lines of Mythal’s vallaslin. They only covered the sides of her eyes and cheekbones, like a faint touch of face makeup, but it was still a surprise to see. Evidently Clan Lavellan had already pressured Enasta into permanently marring her face. Naia wished she could have been here to stop them.

She came around the side of the bedding and hugged her sister tight. Anverelan greeted her with a simple “hello” and she nodded politely in return. Then she knelt down by her father’s side.

His breathing appeared to be steady. That was a good sign. His face did not seem contorted in pain. That was good, too. It merely looked as though he were in a deep sleep. She found his hand and clasped it within hers. It felt clammy to touch.

“He’s sweating,” she noted aloud. Enasta instantly got up and removed one of the layers of blankets.

“There,” she said. “What else can I do?”

Naia nearly gaped at Enasta. She seemed to have fit into the role of responsible older sibling quite naturally. Had that been a positive side effect of Naia’s absence? It was not something she would have ever expected, knowing how naive and irresponsible her sisters could sometimes be.

“Would you fetch me a damp cloth?” Naia asked.

Enasta nodded. “I’ll be right back,” she said before leaving the tent.

Naia sighed and pulled her hair over to one side of her neck as she leaned over her father’s sleeping form. She placed a hand on his forehead. It wasn’t hot to touch, so at least a fever could be ruled out. That put her mind more at ease.

She settled back, sitting on the ground next to Anverelan.

“It’s good to have you back,” the Keeper stated casually, glancing her way.

“For now,” she added, keeping her voice low in the hopes that her siblings wouldn’t hear. She wasn’t sure why she said it; perhaps she didn’t want to give Anverelan the satisfaction of thinking he’d influenced her presence here in any way.

Enasta returned before he could reply, carrying a wet cloth. She handed it to Naia, who took it and leaned over her father again to gently wipe the sweat from his palms and neck.

“Where is the medicine I gave you?” she asked Anverelan without looking up from her task.

“Right here,” he responded, picking up a nearby satchel. “I was not sure how to administer it, or if it would even help….”

“My father is desperate, and the healing properties of elfroot are unmatched! It couldn’t possibly have _hurt,”_ Naia responded impatiently, grabbing the satchel out of his hands.

“Of course. Forgive me,” he quickly amended.

“Anverelan has been very helpful, Naia. You shouldn’t be too hard on him,” Enasta interjected.

Naia looked at her sister, then at Anverelan. The telltale circles under both their eyes were not unusual for Anverelan, but Enasta favored her beauty sleep far too much. Could it be that they’d both been up all night, watching over her father?

“Of course,” Naia relented with a sigh, turning back to her father. There was no use arguing at a time like this, anyhow. “Can someone please bring me some water? Room temperature will be fine.”

Anverelan stood. “I’ll get it,” he said, leaving the tent. He returned a moment later with a small vessel, handing it to Naia. She took it and began carefully mixing the contents of the satchel into the liquid.

“Is Father going to be alright?” Laleal asked in a small voice. He stood in the corner, his usual, easygoing countenance replaced by a look of dismay. No matter how tall he’d grown, he was still the same little boy in Naia’s eyes, and he still needed his father. This family could not stand to lose another parent.

“Well, he seems better than I’d initially feared, but until we know what’s wrong, I can’t say for sure,” she replied solemnly.

Naia took the instant potion she’d just created and brought it to her father’s lips. She’d read about this in a book once; administering a draft to someone while they were asleep was not simple, but it was possible. She would have to pour small amounts at a time to be sure it went down properly.

“Does anyone know what happened to Father in the first place?” she asked as she poured a tiny amount of liquid into his mouth, making sure his neck and chest were elevated to an upright position. The draft seemed to go down, so she poured a bit more.

“No one was with him at the time. He just retired early last night, claiming he was extremely tired,’ Enasta explained.

“Father and I have been sharing a tent, so when I went to bed later that evening, I found him lying on the ground, not even settled into his bedroll. I suspected something was wrong, and then he wouldn’t stir when I tried to wake him,” Laleal explained.

Naia nodded. “What did he have to eat and drink yesterday?”

“Nothing different from the rest of us, and we’re all fine.”

She hummed pensively as she finished carefully administering the potion to her father.

“Naia,” Anverelan called just as she sat down again. He was still standing by the front of the tent. “I wonder if I might have a word with you in private.”

She eyed him carefully.

“Is this urgent or can it wait?” she asked. She really wasn’t in the mood for another one of his speeches.

“It cannot wait, I’m afraid,” he replied.

She sighed, then stood up. “Alright, then. Lead the way.”

They exited the tent, and Anverelan led her far enough away from the entrance where they could talk freely without being overheard.

“What do you want?” she asked. She didn’t intend to come off quite so rude; she was simply frustrated by her father’s condition and the mysterious illness that plagued him.

Anverelan frowned. “I apologize, Naia, but I couldn’t tell you this in front of your siblings. And you’re not going to like it, either.”

Of course not.

She took a deep breath, willing herself to be patient. “Just tell me.”

“I know what happened to Sileal.”

She stared at him, wide-eyed. That may not actually be bad news, she reasoned. If she simply knew what was wrong, she might have a better chance at fixing it. “Really? Tell me what it is! Perhaps I can treat it.”

Anverelan shook his head. “I’m not so sure about that… because your father isn’t exactly ill.”

"What? What do you mean?”

He ran his fingers through his hair nervously. “It’s all my fault, you see. I can’t hide this from you. Even if it means you’ll hate me for it.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What did you do, Anverelan?”

“When I agreed to let your family return to the clan, I may have had one or two… _conditions,”_ he began. “I remembered that your father once had contact with a shemlen man who harvested lyrium, you see.”

Her brow furrowed. She didn’t like where this conversation was headed. Nevermind that she’d never heard of a shem harvesting lyrium before, or that her father had failed to mention any of this to her. “How do you know this?” she asked.

“I may have overheard a conversation between them once. It doesn’t matter. This lyrium harvester, you knew him too. Short fellow by the name of Tethras,” Anverelan continued.

“What? _Varric_ Tethras?” she asked, ignoring for the moment that he’d basically admitted to spying on her father. She could not believe that Varric would ever provide lyrium to her father.

“I don’t remember his given name. He had a beard. Anyway, he found loads of the stuff growing in the old cellars beneath his family’s estate. And since shemlen have no use for lyrium, he’s been travelling about and selling it off to Dalish clans throughout France.”

Naia actually relaxed at that. He had a beard; it wasn’t Varric, then. His brother Bartrand, probably. She’d never trusted Bartrand.

“Anverelan, what is the point of all this?” she asked.

“I was just getting to that. When I remembered your father had ways to contact Mssr. Tethras, well… I… I may have asked him to get in touch with him again,” he admitted.

“You did _what?”_

It all became clear then. Her father’s condition, the lack of an identifiable illness. He’d taken lyrium again; only this time he’d taken too much, and now he wouldn’t wake up. His mind was essentially trapped in the Fade.

It was worse than she could have anticipated; she had absolutely no idea how to help him or whether he was past the point of help.

“Naia, I am so sorry,” Anverelan apologized. “I did not know this was going to happen. But in my defense, I did it for the clan! We ran out of lyrium and I knew we would need more for the next New Year, but I couldn’t send scouts out to gather more without arousing suspicion….”

She barely heard what Anverelan was saying over the blood rushing to her head in anger. This was his fault. This was all his fault!

“And who was responsible for completely exhausting our lyrium resources in the first place? I can think of only one person!”

Anverelan hung his head in shame. “I know,” he said in a small voice. “I know, but we’ve been over this. It won’t happen again.”

"Well I don’t believe you!” she cried. In her experience, addicts always made excuses. They always lied. And even if he were telling the truth, it didn’t make a bit of difference. His actions had put others in jeopardy, and that was inexcusable.

“Quiet!” he hushed her, “Do you want everyone to hear?”

Naia was past the point of caring. “You say you’ve changed, but this is just proof you haven’t! My father could have _died!”_

He started to protest, but Naia was finished arguing. She’d said all she needed to say. Anverelan could stand to stew in the consequences of his bad decisions for a little while. She pushed past him to go back inside the tent, giving him a glare that warned him not to follow.

All eyes were on her when she entered the tent.

"What was all that shouting about?” Enasta asked.

“Why don’t you ask Anverelan?” Naia replied sourly.

To her surprise, Enasta stood up. “Fine, I will,” she said, and moved to go outside.

“Enasta, wait! I didn’t mean now!” Naia called after her, but she was already gone.

She sighed and knelt down by her father’s side again, taking his hand. He actually looked peaceful, now that she thought about it. Like he was having the most pleasant dream. And knowing what she now knew about lyrium, he probably was.

She still did not know if he was going to recover, however. He could wake up any moment, or he may never wake up again, stuck in the Fade for all time. There was no way to be certain... wasn’t there?

What was most concerning was the fact that the Fade was potentially dangerous. She’d seen for herself the sort of demons who dwelt there, and if one of them managed to hurt her father, he might never be able to leave. His body could remain in a comatose state while his mind was forever trapped on another plane.

There was only one way to know for sure if her father was alright: by following him into the Fade. But that was not an option currently. She knew the Dread Wolf’s castle had a special connection to the Fade, so that meant she couldn’t get there unless she was in or near the castle. And even if she were to return there and enter the Fade, she’d likely be in a completely different area than her father. How would she know where to find him?

No, there was no getting to the Fade and her father from here—not organically, at least. But there _was_ another option. There was always lyrium.

...The thought was insane, she realized. And it was risky. But it just might be the only chance to get her father back.

That momentary realization was all Naia needed to make up her mind. She’d do it tonight, while the others were asleep. She would be careful, of course, to take only the smallest dose, just enough to get her to the Fade for a short trip. Then she would find her father and bring him back to the waking world.

Naia stayed by her father’s side until sundown. Enasta returned to the tent then, sans Anverelan. She made no comment indicating whether she’d gleaned the truth from him, and Naia did not bother to ask.

“I should check on the halla,” she said, standing.

Laleal lifted his head at that. “I’d almost forgotten about the halla! Where is she?” he asked excitedly.

“Just outside camp. Ilvin’s looking after her. Want to come?”

“Yes!” Laleal replied enthusiastically.

“Can I come, too?” Nehna chimed in. “I’m bored.”

Naia looked from Nehna to their other sister. Enasta would have to stay with their father while the three of them were gone. Naia fully expected her to complain of boredom, too, but instead she said, “Go. I will look after Father.”

Naia placed a hand on her sister’s shoulder and gave her a meaningful look. “Thank you, ‘Nasta.”

 

* * *

 

They found the halla where she’d left her, diligently guarded by Ilvin.

“How are we going to get her into the camp without attracting attention?” Naia thought aloud. She turned to her siblings. “What did you do last time she was here?”

“I don’t know. Anverelan kept her hidden in his tent the whole time. He said only our family was allowed to know about it,” Laleal explained.

“Really? He did that?” Naia was surprised but nonetheless pleased.

“Can’t we just leave her here?” Nehna asked.

“Of course not!” argued Laleal. “That would be cruel. What if it rains or snows?”

“Lal is right,” Naia agreed. “She’s coming with us.”

“I don’t understand why we can’t let the others see her though,” Laleal continued.

“Because I don’t have time to deal with their reactions right now. I’m sure everyone would love to meet her but we have more important matters, like looking after Father,” she explained. “Besides, I promised the Beast I would protect her. And while I’m sure a Dalish camp would be the safest place for a magical halla, I would feel much more comfortable if we just kept her out of sight for now.”

Laleal nodded. “We need a distraction, then. Something to hold everyone’s attention while we sneak the halla into my tent.”

“That won’t be a problem,” said Nehna. “There’s a gathering tonight. They’re building the fire right now, and someone will be telling stories. There may be some music and dancing involved afterward, possibly drinking. Trust me, no one will be paying any attention to us.”

Naia grinned. “Perfect.”

After swearing both Ilvin and Fenvir to secrecy, Naia and her siblings led the halla to the edge of the trees, unseen. Just as Nehna had described, the members of Clan Lavellan were beginning to gather around the fire to listen to a story. Adults and children alike were among the captive audience. It was a story they’d all heard a hundred times before, and yet they still listened in earnest.

 _“Long ago, the gods roamed the earth,”_ the tale began. _“The Creators walked among us, looking after the People. But there was a second clan of gods, ones who destroy rather than create. Their names have since been lost to time; we call them the Forgotten Ones. And then there was one god who was neither a Creator nor a Forgotten One. His name was Fen’harel.”_

It was a rather solemn story, but Naia had to laugh. Of all the nights to tell of the Great Betrayal of Fen’harel, they had to pick this one. She was expecting something more lighthearted, perhaps with a happy ending. This one ended with the fall of Elvhenan, the bane of her people’s very being.

 _“Now Fen’harel was kin to the Creators, and in the old days, he often helped them in their endless war against the Forgotten Ones,”_ the story continued. _“But Fen'harel was clever. He could walk among both clans of gods without fear, and both believed he was one of them.”_

As soon as Naia was certain no one was looking in their direction, they came out into the clearing and headed straight towards a cluster of tents. Laleal led the way, weaving between various tents and towards his own.

_“So Fen’harel went to each group of gods and told them the other had forged a terrible weapon, a blade that would end the war. He told the Creators it was forged in the heavens, and the Forgotten Ones that it was hidden deep in the abyss.”_

They made it to the tent, and Naia quickly ushered the halla inside. She hesitated by the tent opening, looking back at the campfire and the storyteller as he finished his tale.

_“And when the gods went seeking this weapon, he sealed them both in their realms forever. Now he alone roams the earth, tricking and misleading the People whenever he can.”_

Naia wished she could change the ending of that tale, to reassure her people that Fen’harel would never purposefully cause them harm. But then, they blamed the Dread Wolf for mostly anything that went wrong. Perhaps they were simply looking for somewhere to place the blame. If that brought them some small comfort, who was she to interfere?

The storyteller began to sing, then. His voice was deep and rather soothing, yet his words were anything but.

 

_“Beware the many forms of Fen’harel!_

_That dreaded Beast who comes in humble guise:_

_a wanderer amongst the People who,_

_with cunning and with knowing, clever eyes,_

_will offer you advice that seems most fair,_

_yet is, in truth, naught but poison and lies_

 

_Remember, all you children of the Dales,_

_the heavy price of treason and betrayal_

_Forget not all that Fen’harel has done_

_to lead us through adversity and trial_

 

_Yet still, above all else, do not forget_

_to keep within your hearts and in your minds,_

_the sacrifice and mercy of your gods,_

_who live forevermore in heaven’s binds!”_

 

The song was a lament and a cautionary tale combined, slow and beautiful and moving. In the end, the story was not about Fen’harel, but about the gods he’d trapped. That part of the tale was true, evidently, but Naia wasn’t sure if “sacrifice” and “mercy” were accurate ways to describe the Creators, based on what she’d seen of them.

She entered the tent and closed it behind her. It was a bit tight in there for three people and a halla, but she didn’t expect to be there for long. The halla lay on the ground in the middle of the three of them. She seemed more relaxed now that she was inside. Or perhaps she was more comfortable because Naia was there.

“Does she have a name?” Laleal asked quietly.

Naia chuckled. “Yes, she does but it’s a secret. I’ve been trying to guess but she hasn’t reacted to any of the names I can think of.”

“That’s too bad. I wonder what it could be,” Laleal mused. “Oh, I know! Let’s make a game of it. See who can guess her name. I’ll go first. Is it… Adahlena?”

Laleal watched the halla expectantly, who made no move to acknowledge the name. He frowned, then turned to Nehna. “Your turn.”

Nehna eyed the halla. “I think Nehna’s a perfectly good name. What do you think? Are you a Nehna, like me?”

“I don’t think that’s it,” Laleal said when nothing happened. “What about Melothari?”

Nothing.

“...Revanas?”

“...Siona?”

“...Dalineva?”

They went on like this for a good while, until both of her siblings grew bored.

“I give up,” said Nehna. “Let’s just give her a nickname so we have something to call her for now.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Naia admitted, wishing she’d thought of that sooner.

“I know, we’ll call her Bijou!” Nehna decided suddenly.

 _“Bijou?”_ Naia repeated incredulously. “Really? You want to give a French name to a sacred Dalish animal?”

Nehna ignored her older sister. “Don’t listen to her, Bijou. You can have any name you want,” she said to the halla, her voice pitched up a bit as if talking to a pet. The halla blinked slowly at her.

“Now you’re making up her mind for her?” Naia asked, brow raised.

“Bijou… I kind of like it,” Laleal interjected.

Naia sighed defeatedly. She was outnumbered, now. “Fine,” she yielded. “Bijou it is.”

There was a banging noise outside the tent which caught Naia off guard, followed by a few more bangs. It had been years since she’d heard the sound of an old-fashioned Dalish drum. Music began to play, a much more upbeat number than the song the storyteller had sung.

Naia peeked outside to see some fiddlers and a small, flute-like instrument accompanying the steady beating of the drum. The atmosphere had already greatly improved, and a few people had even gotten up to dance. She wasn’t sure what, if anything, they were celebrating, but she had to admit it looked like fun.

“Well, Bijou, I hope you don’t mind if we leave you on your own a bit longer,” she said to the halla.

Bijou made a contented noise, and Naia was satisfied with that. She exited the overcrowded tent, followed by her siblings, and they made their way towards the festivities.

She realized, of course, that Enasta was still with their father, so as they passed Keeper Anverelan’s tent, Naia hesitated.

“Go on without me, you two. Have fun,” she told her siblings. Then she headed toward the Keeper’s tent, prepared to relieve her sister of her post.

Enasta was still sitting dutifully by Sileal’s side. She looked a bit worn out, her unruly curls messier than usual. She was the only one of Naia’s siblings who shared the same curly, dark hair- just like their mother. Nehna and Laleal favored their father more, with thinner, chestnut brown locks. Naia knelt beside Enasta and tucked a wayward curl behind her sister’s ear, revealing the thin, green lines of the vallaslin on her cheekbone.

“When did you get your blood writing done?” she asked.

“Two days ago. It’s still sore,” Enasta replied softly.

Naia nodded. Her face had been sore for about a week after she’d had hers done.

“I’m surprised you let the clan put you up to this,” she noted.

Enasta looked at her strangely. “Nobody put me up to it,” she said. “I decided it was time. I’m a woman of eighteen years now, after all.”

Naia stared at her sister in disbelief. “But... the pain? Was it too much?” she asked, cringing at the memory of it.

“It wasn’t so bad. I chose the smallest design, so the pain only lasted a little while,” Enasta replied bravely. Naia was impressed, but still saddened that she hadn’t been here to prevent it from happening.

“You shouldn’t have had to endure the pain at all. I’m sorry,” she said.

“Why?”

She couldn’t tell her now, especially not while the wounds were still healing.

“Remind me to tell you another time,” she replied simply.

Enasta tilted her head to the side. “Does this mean you’re staying with us for good?” she asked on a hopeful note. “We missed you.”

Naia smiled warmly. She reached her arm around her sister’s shoulders and let Enasta rest her head gently against her own head.

“I’ve missed you, too,” she replied. “And whether or not I’m staying depends on Father’s recovery. If… _when…_ he gets better, I’ll stay for a little while, but I plan to eventually return to the castle.”

Enasta lifted her head.

“The castle… do you truly like it, there? With him?” she asked.

Naia could not help but smile, thinking about it. “I do.”

“So much that you’d want to leave us again? After we just got you back?”

She sat up straight and turned to look at her sister. “Oh, ‘Nasta, no. No, I wouldn’t leave you. Not again. I can come and go now, whenever I like. The Dread Wolf has made sure of that. I can use the halla to visit you at any time.”

Enasta let out a contented sigh and smiled. “That makes me feel better.”

Naia grinned. “Me too.” She looked her sister over, this young girl-turned young woman who had changed so much while she was away. “I’m proud of you, you know. For stepping up in my absence, taking care of the family. Don’t take this the wrong way, but where did this sense of responsibility come from? And why didn’t it surface sooner?”

“You were gone,” Enasta replied simply, shrugging. “We thought you were never coming back. After a while I started asking myself: what would Naia do?”

Naia frowned. So she’d forced her sister into it, by leaving. Come to think of it, wasn’t that exactly what had happened to her? She was younger than Enasta when their mother had died, forcing Naia to grow up fast.

Enasta noticed the look on her face and shook her head. “It’s not your fault, Naia. And anyway, you should have more faith in me! Believe it or not, I did actually hear you every time you taught us about responsibility. I just didn’t want to listen, then. ...But I remember all of it.”

Naia raised her brows. “I’m shocked,” she admitted. “But pleased. Perhaps there’s hope for Nehna.”

They shared a laugh. Then the moment passed, and Naia gestured towards the entrance of the tent. “Why don’t you go and join the party outside? I can take over watching Father tonight.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Of course,” she responded with a reassuring smile.

Enasta threw her arms around Naia and squeezed. “You’re the best!”

She promptly left the tent, and Naia was finally alone with her father and her thoughts. Her father, whose mind was not actually here, but in the Fade. She planned to wait until everyone else was asleep before following him there, but she needed to get her hands on some lyrium first. Perhaps Anverelan had some lying around his tent….

She looked around for any place that he might have stashed the blue, crystallized substance, then halted. It didn’t feel right to snoop around in Anverelan’s tent. And looking for lyrium, no less. It made her feel like a hypocrite.

What was more hypocritical, perhaps, would be to consume the lyrium without telling anyone. She’d scolded Anverelan for doing just that not too long ago.

Naia knew she shouldn’t hide something like this from her family, but she couldn’t exactly tell them the truth, either. She was planning to do the very thing her father had foolishly done, which was the very reason he was in his current predicament. They would never understand. Only someone who’d seen the Fade for themselves truly could.

That meant the only person she could tell was Anverelan, and that was the last person Naia wanted to talk to about it. She could just imagine his reaction; he’d call her a hypocrite and then laugh in her face.

As if on cue, the opening of the tent was pulled back, and Anverelan walked in. He paused when he saw her.

“I’m sorry, I thought Enasta was in here. I’ll give you some privacy.”

“Wait,” she said, standing.

He watched her expectantly.

Naia let out a long sigh, mentally preparing herself for what she was about to say. “We need to talk.”

Anverelan eyed her with a raised brow, but nodded for her to go on.

She fidgeted with her hands, standing there awkwardly. Right. They should probably be seated for this.

“Why don’t we sit down?” she suggested.

Naia looked towards her sleeping father as they sat on the ground next to him. He was still breathing steadily, peacefully. He was the reason she needed to do this. She swallowed hard.

“I would do anything for my family,” she said aloud, turning back towards Anverelan. “You know that, don’t you?”

“You have made that unfailingly clear, yes,” he replied carefully.

“Right, of course,” she said, pursing her lips. “...You also know what lyrium does to a person’s mind, yes?”

Anverelan sighed, running a hand through his auburn hair. “Yes, yes I know. Haven’t you scolded me enough?” he asked impatiently.

“Just listen,” she said, looking him directly in the eyes. “I know what it does, too. Where the lyrium takes you. I know where my father’s mind is right now. ...Because I’ve been there myself.”

She watched his expression turn from confusion to realization and disbelief.

“You’ve been there,” he repeated plainly, watching her from narrowed eyes.

“Yes.”

 _“...How?”_ he asked, but something in his voice told Naia he already suspected an answer, the wrong answer, and was not happy about it.

She put her hands up in defense. “Anverelan, it’s not what you think. Lyrium had nothing to do with it, trust me.”

“Oh, no? Answer my question, then. How do you know what you know?”

“It’s… complicated,” she responded, because she didn’t know what else to say. She probably sounded ridiculous, and perhaps Anverelan deserved more than that. But she hadn’t had time to prepare a better explanation.

Anverelan’s face was a mask now. “I see. You’re asking me to blindly trust you.”

Immediately Naia saw where this conversation was headed. She sighed. “Yes, I am.”

“Yet you denied me that same level of trust earlier today.”

“That’s not exactly true. I never fully trusted you to begin with,” she countered. It was her only defense, and it was an inane one, but she’d needed to say _something._

He laughed humorlessly. “No, I suppose not,” he agreed, then narrowed his eyes. “Why are you telling me this?”

This was it. She took a deep breath. “Because I’m about to do something completely mad and I needed to tell someone. Just in case I get in over my head,” she explained quickly, adding (without missing a beat), “Which I won’t.”

Realization dawned on the Keeper and he shook his head angrily. “You’re talking of using lyrium? I cannot believe you! This is…. you realize… after everything...! You _are_ mad,” he finished plainly, eyeing her with a look of disgust.

Naia looked away, suddenly ashamed. Because as much as she didn’t need or want Anverelan’s approval, she could not help but imagine her siblings reacting the same way.

“I know,” she replied quietly, meeting his eyes bravely. “But the truth is, the lyrium _will_ take me directly to my father. We’ll be in the same place; I know this for a fact. And I know what you must think of me, but I’ve made up my mind. If there’s even the slightest chance I can save my father, I have to take it. I don’t care what you think; I just thought someone ought to know.”

Anverelan folded his arms over his chest, still watching her disapprovingly from the corners of his eyes.

“What about the family that you claim to love so much? Why not tell them?”

She shook her head desperately. “You know why.”

He looked away then, towards the entrance of his tent. It had been left open just enough to see outside and view his people as they continued to dance and enjoy themselves, oblivious to the tense conversation he was having.

“All too well,” he said, turning back towards Naia.

She nodded in understanding. “Will you help me, then?”

He studied her for a second, debating internally. Then, “Yes. On one condition.”

Of course he had another blighted _condition._

“Anverelan, if you ask me to marry you one more time I will become physically violent with you,” she warned him.

“What? No, I’m not asking that. Don’t worry,” he assured her. “But I may ask something else of you in the future. Or, if you do manage to get your father back, I could simply ask him, instead.”

She didn’t like the vague nature of this favor he was requesting. “Then ask him,” she said impatiently. “Because I am getting my father back tonight, with or without your help!”

They stared at each other for a minute, neither one refusing to back down. Naia couldn't be sure if she’d blinked at all during that time. Finally, Anverelan looked away.

“There’s a small flask of liquidized lyrium tucked into my bedroll,” he said quickly, pointing to the far corner of his tent. “I’ve been trying to wean myself off of it, just like you told me to.”

Naia sighed in relief. She really didn’t want to think about what she might have had to do, had he refused her.

“Thank you,” she said, hesitating as she eyed the bedroll that was lying in the corner. Had he really been taking her advice? Perhaps she did owe him the benefit of the doubt there. “How is that going, by the way? Have you found anyone to talk to yet? I know it’s only been a few days….”

“Actually, I have found someone, believe it or not,” he replied. There was the faintest hint of a smile on his face.

“Really? I’m glad to hear that,” she said. Perhaps there really was hope for Anverelan, after all.

Just then, Nehna and Enasta tumbled into the tent, giggling as though nothing had changed and they hadn’t a single worry or woe.

“Come on, you two, join the fun!” Nehna insisted loudly. Naia suspected the teenager may have had at least one cup of Dalish cider by now. She was tempted to chide her but thought better of it. Her family could use a diversion such as this.

Naia looked between her sisters and Anverelan, lingering on the Keeper for a moment as if to send him a signal.

“Someone really must look after Father,” she said. “I think I’m going to retire early, actually, and I intend to stay by his side tonight. But Anverelan, you should go and be with your people. Enjoy yourself.”

Anverelan looked at her knowingly and nodded. He knew what she was about to do.

“Take care, Naia,” he said, giving her a meaningful look before standing up. Then Enasta came over and grabbed him by the hands.

“Come on, Keeper. Dance with me,” she said, then proceeded to drag him out of the tent. The look of surprise on his face made the two girls giggle again as they made their way outside.

 

* * *

 

The lyrium did not instantly do anything. It tingled a little going down, but Naia felt nothing out of the ordinary after that.

Perhaps she hadn’t had enough- she’d only taken one tiny sip, after all. But she knew better than to risk overdosing. She remembered Keeper Deshanna only taking a few sips of a concentrated dosage during the New Year’s ritual.

Or perhaps she just needed to simply go to sleep.

Naia laid down beside her father, resting her head on a pillow there. A wave of exhaustion hit her suddenly, which was unsurprising considering the day she’d had. She closed her eyes for half a moment….

...And as she began to open them, she found herself standing in the raw Fade, all alone.

It was a peculiar feeling, being here by herself. There was no one to guide her, to shape the images around her and make them more appealing. Instead she had to navigate the directionless, rocky terrain on her own, and hope she didn’t come across any danger.

She came across an area littered with large, jagged stone formations that cast tall shadows on the ground between them. She was about to walk around this area, rather than through it, but then she thought she heard voices. Or was it just one voice?

Heading towards the sound, she walked forward between two tall boulders that looked almost as if they’d been placed there on purpose, forming an archway. As soon as she stepped inside, the view around her began to grow foggy and unclear. Then the towering rocks turned into tall trees, their branches blotting out the sun above. She was entering a dream or vision, perhaps the playground of spirits acting out memories of this forest from long ago. But they were not her dreams, and she strained to look past the trees and see whatever spirits were hiding there.

But there were no spirits, only more and more trees. She weaved between them, in and out until she was certain she was entirely lost. Then she heard a voice again.

“Help me.” The words were spoken too softly to be a shout or a scream, but they were still alarming. Because that was her father’s voice, calling desperately for help.

The trees were too thick to see past but Naia followed the voice of her father hurriedly. He could be in danger—maybe he’d come across a demon. Without even thinking, a familiar but gentle burning sensation began in the palm of her right hand: a small ball of fire hovered there. For a moment she thought to extinguish it, for fear that the forest would catch fire all around her. Then she remembered that the trees were a vision, and none of this was real. She could still use her magic to vanquish whatever demon was tormenting her father.

She rounded the corner of a rather large tree, and saw him, just a few meters away. Or the back of his head, at least. There was someone, or something, in front of him but she could not see. She carefully and quietly made her way around the trees to get a better view of this adversary, keeping her magic at the ready.

The flame in her hand went out as soon as they came into view.

“I need you, Syrianna,” her father said in that same, gentle but desperate voice. Next to him, hands clasped in his, was her mother—no, _Comfort—_ smiling as she gazed into his eyes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, lovely readers! I feel like I got a ton of kudos since the last update so if you're new- hello! Thank you for reading my fairy tale. 
> 
> FYI the poem/song was written by me but much of the words were taken from games/dragon age wiki. As was the story itself. Just thought I'd do something fun this chapter.
> 
> Just a few things I've been thinking about:  
> I know it’s implied that my dialogue is mostly translated from French, but now I’m really regretting not typing “le Loup Affreux” in place of “the Dread Wolf” throughout the story. It’s a title, after all so it should be in French.  
> Actually, there are many little revisions like this that I’d like to make. Including chapter titles! Plus I’d like to do minor rewrites on the first handful of chapters, because I feel like I could do so much better now. I can’t believe it’s coming up on 2 years since I first started telling this story! 
> 
> That said, I really want to focus on getting this story finished for you, first. There are only two more chapters before the main story gets wrapped up. Then I may need to take a break before posting additional chapters, which will extend beyond the “happily ever after.” These chapters will be there to tie up loose ends, but also to remain in the spirit of the original tale by Gabrielle Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve, which does not end with happily ever after, either. (And I encourage you to check that out if you haven’t. And while I’m recommending things might I introduce another version of BATB that inspired me- the beauty and the beast webcomic by Megan Kearney- it’s currently free to read on her website and highly, highly recommended!)
> 
> Anyway, just wanted to keep you all posted on the future of this fic. Next chapter will hopefully be up in the first half of November. Ciao for now :)


	27. Chapter Twenty Six

Naia stared ahead, dumbfounded. To the naked eye, her father was sharing a private moment with his deceased wife. The problem was that was not Syrianna Lavellan, and her father seemed blissfully unaware of that.

She stepped forward. “Father?”

He and Comfort both seemed equally surprised to find her standing there. He let go of Comfort’s hands. _“Naia?”_ He stepped forward hesitantly, a look of disbelief and confusion on his face. “Is that… are you _real?”_

Naia strode forward, giving Comfort a wary glare. She halted a few feet away from the both of them.

“I’m real, Father. I’m here. And I’ve come to take you home,” she said determinedly.

He processed her words with a blank expression while Comfort seemed a bit alarmed by Naia’s presence. She ignored the false spirit and focused on her father.

He stepped forward, reaching out a hand towards her. It found her arm, solid and real beneath his fingers. Then he placed both arms around her and held her tight.

“My darling daughter,” he whispered into her hair, and Naia all but melted in his arms. Suddenly, the waking world could wait. She didn’t realize how much she’d needed this.

“I’ve missed you,” she breathed, “so very much.”

He let go of her except for one hand on her shoulder, and gazed at her through teary eyes. “I thought I would never see you again,” he said, smiling. She smiled, too.

“I had to come back for you,” she said. “You had everyone worried sick. What were you thinking?”

“I was worried about you, _asha’lan._ I know your letter said you were fine but I had to be sure. And… and then I thought perhaps I could find your mother, and see if she’s been watching over you from above, just like always.” He looked at Comfort and smiled. “I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to find her again, but here we are. Can you believe it?” he asked, turning back towards his daughter. “After all these years, your mother is still here, watching over us!”

Naia frowned. “That’s not….” she paused, looking between her father’s joy-ridden face and the face of the deceiver beside him. Comfort was giving her a desperate look, and her father just seemed so, so happy. After all these years, he’d said…. So this had been going on from the start, hadn’t it? His struggle with lyrium addiction—it was all because of Comfort. And all this time she’d convinced him he was seeing his beloved, late wife. How could she do this to him, and to Naia? Just what kind of game was this creature playing?

Whatever had happened, Naia couldn’t possibly tell her father the truth now, not when the lie was so enticing. She hesitated, then forced a smile. “Yes, it’s incredible. And you’re right; Mother _has_ been watching over me. She visited me in my dreams while I was at the Beast’s castle.”

That seemed to please her father and appease Comfort.

“It’s true, Sileal,” Comfort said, her eyes never leaving Naia’s. “But we will have plenty of time to talk about that. For now, I think I need to have a word in private with our daughter.”

“Of course, Darling,” replied Sileal. He stepped away to give them space.

“Wait,” Naia stalled. “What about you, Father?” Whatever spell Comfort had him under, she needed to be sure it wouldn’t keep. “You need to come home. We all need you to come home, _Bae._ You can’t stay here forever.”

He smiled sadly. “I know, _da’len.”_

“Do not worry. I will make certain he returns safely home,” Comfort assured her in a soothing tone, and something told Naia it was the truth. She pursed her lips, then nodded. This was what she’d come for, after all. At least she no longer had to worry about that.

Comfort began to walk away then, and Naia followed. They stopped far away enough to not be overheard, but still within her father’s line of sight.

Naia had words to say to her “friend,” but Comfort did not let her get in a single one. “What are you doing here?” she asked immediately, her tone disapproving like a true parent.

“Pardon me?” Naia replied. “I should be asking you the same thing, _Mother….”_ She emphasized the last word mockingly in her angered state.

“You don’t know what you’ve done!” Comfort continued, her voice frantic but volume still low.

Naia stared at her quizzically. Why was she acting so worried? “Is this about the lyrium? Because I only took a single sip, and—”

“Not that,” Comfort said impatiently. “Naia, how could you run away like that? You told me you were to remain at the castle!”

Naia blinked at her. “I didn’t run away,” she said plainly.

Comfort’s shoulders fell as the truth of Naia’s words sank in. “He let you go,” she ascertained with a defeated sigh. “Of course he let you go. The blighted fool was in love….” She seemed greatly and genuinely dismayed by this, but Naia could not imagine why.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s too late now…. It’s all over,” Comfort replied, vague words filled with despair.

Naia was tired of vague words.

“Stop. No more secrets,” she declared. “Tell me _everything.”_

Comfort stared woefully at her, contemplative. “You’re right,” she yielded after a moment. “I don’t know how to tell you this, _da’halla….”_

“Don’t call me that!” Naia interrupted, furious. How dare she call her the pet name her mother had given her? Especially when Comfort had essentially stolen her mother’s identity and manipulated her father for years! “I want to know what you were doing with my father,” she demanded. “Why did you let him believe all this time that you were really her?” The false spirit actually looked remorseful, but Naia did not give her time to apologize. “You were the reason he became addicted to lyrium, weren’t you?” she accused.

“I _never_ intended for that to happen!” Comfort interjected.

“It doesn’t matter what you intended! You… you _seduced_ him! You knew he couldn’t stand to say goodbye, but you kept up the pretense anyhow! No wonder he couldn’t stay away…!” Hot, angry tears forced their way down Naia’s cheeks. She wanted Comfort to confess, to tell her everything. She wanted to be free of the twisted web of lies built by this creature that had betrayed her.

“Naia, please,” Comfort began, flustered. “You don’t understand....”

“I understand perfectly clear. You deceived my father, and you probably would have done the same to me, had I not figured out the truth from the start!” she declared.

“But you _didn’t_ figure out the truth,” Comfort responded. “I merely let you believe what you wanted to believe, whatever you needed to comfort you. You needed to believe that I wasn’t really your mother, and your father needed to believe that I really was,” she explained calmly. “Both of you, and neither of you, were correct.”

Naia was about to retort, but that last statement had rendered her speechless. _“...What?”_

Comfort glanced down at the ground, and in seconds there appeared a fallen tree where there was none before, right between the two of them.

“Sit,” she told Naia, so Naia sat. Then she took a seat next to the young woman.

“Naia,” she began gently, “When your mother died, she came here, like all souls do when they leave their bodies. She was passing through the Fade on her way to the Beyond, but she could not bring herself to leave. The truth is she never crossed over to the other side, to the Black City.”

Naia eyed the other woman skeptically. “You obviously didn’t know my mother. She would never do that! Souls who refuse to cross over become demons, don’t they? She wouldn’t… and you couldn’t... be….” A demon. Is that what Comfort was implying? That she was the demon her mother had turned into? Is that what she’d meant when she said both Naia and her father were right about her identity?

“I can assure you I am no demon,” Comfort said.

“...But you’re not my mother,” Naia countered.

“Not entirely, no.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion. “What does that mean?”

Comfort met her eyes carefully, her own brown eyes full of emotion. “There was… another soul, an ancient one who wandered the Fade and similarly refused to cross over. Said she had too much unfinished business. She’d even created a magic mirror that allowed her to spy on the waking world,” she began. She grinned as Naia’s eyes filled with realization. “Yes, I mean the Well of Knowledge. The Well’s creator let your mother use the Well to watch over her family. During that time, she offered to reveal the secret to remaining in the Fade without becoming an abomination. Do you know what her secret was?”

Naia honestly had no idea, but she was intrigued. She shook her head and prayed the answer was not an upsetting one.

“The ancient being claimed she’d found a way to merge two souls into one, thus becoming stronger and more longevous. She’d asked many a soul to become one with her, and as a result, they remained together in the Fade for hundreds and hundreds of years, as one singular entity.”

Naia stared blankly for a moment as she processed this information over and over in her mind. What Comfort was implying… could it mean what Naia suspected?

“Who are you?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at Comfort. She needed to hear it coming from her.

Comfort flashed her a half-grin, but her eyes were full of sincerity. “I have had many names over the years. I’ve shared identities with countless souls who agreed to merge with mine. I have retained all of their memories, their personalities, their hopes and fears. I nearly lost myself in the process, and would have, had I not created the Well of Knowledge. All of my memories were poured into the Well, keeping them safe and allowing me to extend myself, if you will. That is why the Well reaches so far into the past. It showed you some of my very first memories, in fact.”

Naia tried to wrap her head around what she was hearing. Hundreds of years… oldest memories…. Was Comfort actually one of the _Creators?_

She stared at the face of her mother, but someone else’s personality was staring back at her. Naia’s eyes focused in on the half-smile that graced her features. There was something familiar about it, something that had always been familiar, but she’d never been able to place her finger on it. Until now.

“You can’t be... _Mythal?”_

The goddess closed her eyes at the sound of her true name. When she opened them again, they were almost golden in color.

“I am hardly surprised you figured it out. You always were a clever child.”

Naia gaped at her for a minute. “...I don’t understand,” she said. “You’re truly her? The real Mythal?”

“The one and only,” she confirmed with a wink.

“But... you’re also my mother?”

She nodded. “In a way, yes.”

Naia shook her head in confusion. “But I still don’t understand. How can that be?”

The goddess took a deep breath. “It’s difficult to explain. We’re… a part of each other. And yet together, we’ve become something entirely new. But I still remember everything your mother… everything that _I_ ever did, every choice I made, every emotion I felt.” She looked at Naia lovingly, and her eyes turned back to their usual brown. “I remember carrying you inside of me for months, and the feeling of holding you in my arms for the very first time. You were so very tiny.... I remember raising you, teaching you, scolding you, spoiling you… I remember all of it.”

Naia took in a few long, staggered breaths. She wasn’t sure what to do with this information. It was all too much, too strange. Yet it was true. Somehow, she knew it was true. And part of her, the child inside of her, was strangely alright with that. Because it meant her mother wasn’t gone forever. She’d been right here, all along.

Of course, she wasn’t sure if she would ever understand why her mother had chosen this path in the first place. She didn’t think she could ever agree to something like that.... But the choice had already been made, and Naia was prepared to make peace with it.

Her mother, or Mythal, or whatever she was now, reached forward to wipe away a tear that had stolen its way down Naia’s cheek.

 _“Mamae,”_ Naia whispered, and her mother smiled.

 _“Da’halla,”_ she called, and Naia allowed her to wrap her up in her arms for a long moment.

Naia shut her eyes tight and breathed deep. She hadn’t noticed it before, but she even _smelled_ like her mother, earthy and sweet at the same time. It was the most comforting scent and Naia wanted to just stay here, in the Fade with her forever. And suddenly she understood exactly what her father had gone through, why it had been so hard to give up lyrium.

They let go of each other, and her mother tucked a coil of hair behind Naia’s ear. Then her brow furrowed suddenly with worry. “Naia, there’s something else I need to tell you....”

She nodded enthusiastically. “And there’s so much I want to know, too! Like how did Mythal, or you, even end up in the Fade? Wouldn’t that mean she— _you_ —died?”

Her mother’s brown eyes focused on her and seemed to change color again, a hint of yellow returning to them. “Ah, that. Yes, that is true,” she confirmed.

“But I thought Fen’harel tricked the Creators and sealed them all away.”

She nodded. “That he did, but only after I was killed.”

Naia stared at her incredulously. “You were _killed?”_

She nodded solemnly. “I was immortal. The only way I could die was at the hands of another immortal.”

“So you were killed by your own kind? How did that happen?” Naia asked.

“There was a war, not long after Fen’harel was cursed and locked away,” she explained. “Do you recall how some of the gods conspired to kill Ghilan’nain and take her power? My spymaster, Abelas, discovered their plan and reported back to me just in time. I interfered by hiding Ghilan’nain and her eluvian away where they would never be found. The others didn’t like that, so they rose up against me. I died on the battlefield, and before my blood was dry, they took my orb and released its power for themselves.”

Poor Mythal. Naia hadn’t expected her tale to have such a gruesome and lonely ending. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “Where was Elgar’nan during all of this?” Surely the goddess hadn’t died alone. Surely her husband, foolish as he may have been, was with her.

But Mythal’s golden eyes appeared to flash with anger as she recalled what must have been her worst memories. “My _dutiful_ husband did not want to get involved, at first. Completely refused to join the fighting and risk losing everything.... But then the coward lost me, and it tore him apart inside. He should have sworn to avenge me then and there, but he was still foolishly trying to hold on to his rapidly-fading empire. He found himself completely lost without me, as his partner but especially as his chief strategist. So he sought me in the Fade, hoping my soul had not yet crossed over. Hoping for one last piece of advice.”

Naia was intrigued. “What did you tell him?”

She laughed coldly. “Honestly? I wanted to tell him to fuck off,” she said bitterly. It was unusual, hearing that sort of language in her mother’s voice, but Naia realized all the inflections and tones were Mythal’s. They always had been, she just hadn’t realized it until now. The goddess sighed. “In reality, I told Elgar’nan he must try and keep the peace, for now. Stop the fighting and try to pick up the pieces together with the other gods. I told him to get Elvhenan back to normal, or at least as normal as it could be…. He was hesistant at first, but I managed to convince him it was for the best.”

Naia gaped at her. “Really? You’re telling me the Goddess of Justice didn’t want justice?”

She huffed. “No, I did not want justice. I wanted _revenge,”_ she exclaimed vehemently, eyes sparking yellow. “I had the perfect plan. All I needed was a certain someone in the waking world to help me see it through.”

“Who? Your spymaster?”

“No, Abelas couldn’t help me. I needed a fellow god to complete this task, so I went to Fen’harel,” she explained. “He was forbidden from using his eluvian, but I knew he could enter the Fade in his dreams. So I found him and brought him to me while he slept. I told him all that had happened, and asked for his help.”

“But wasn’t he cursed? How could he have possibly helped?”

“Darling, I’m the one who created his curse. Do you honestly think I would let that stand in my way?” she asked with a chuckle. “First, I needed a way to keep an eye on the waking world, so I created the Well of Knowledge. I spied on the gods, and just as I’d hoped, the fighting had ceased and there was talk of peace. The annual Gathering was coming up, and they agreed to meet in the Fade as usual to discuss politics and their next course of action. All the pieces were in place, and Fen’harel was prepared to do his part.”

“And what was that, exactly?” Naia asked.

“Something so devilishly insane, your people have been cursing the Dread Wolf’s name ever since.”

Naia was flabbergasted. “You mean it was _your_ plan all along, to seal the gods away?”

The goddess grinned wickedly. “Though I can’t say I’m entirely proud of it, considering the consequences, I still have no regrets. Those traitors had it coming.”

“But how did you do it?” Naia asked, wide-eyed and beyond curious. “Or rather, how did Fen’harel do it?”

“Do you remember the eluvians the gods possessed? Created to house the nine orbs, the very source of our powers, they also allowed us to travel physically into the Fade.”

Naia nodded. “I remember.”

“Then you might also recall there was a failsafe, to prevent anyone from destroying another god’s mirror and taking their orb.”

She was beginning to remember that part, though it had been a while. “Right. Wasn’t that the reason they wanted to kill Ghilan’nan in the first place? As long as she was living, they couldn’t destroy her eluvian, not without destroying all nine eluvians in the process…. That’s it!” Naia exclaimed, giddy with knowledge. She knew exactly what had happened now, how Fen’harel had managed to seal the gods away. “The Gathering…. That’s why you made sure all the gods would be in attendance! You waited for each of them to gather in the Fade, and then you had Fen’harel smash his own eluvian!”

“...Thus destroying the other gods’ eluvians and effectively trapping them in the Fade for all eternity,” the goddess confirmed, yellow eyes gleaming with glee. “Precisely.”

Naia laughed. “I can’t believe it! It’s brilliant. It’s mad, but it’s brilliant.”

“That it was,” Mythal agreed. “...It was also extremely foolish,” she confessed, sighing heavily. “Remember those consequences I mentioned? The destruction of the eluvians almost completely severed our people’s connection to the Fade.”

“Oh,” Naia uttered. Her mind began to put the rest of the pieces together. Fen’harel had told her about this, hadn’t he? His actions—Mythal’s choices—had directly resulted in the downfall of her people.

“The Elvhen people lost everything that day,” Mythal continued solemnly. “Their society collapsed, their magic was gone, and over the years they forgot themselves. Every unique trait that makes our people Elvhen has now disappeared, and they are barely holding onto what little remains of our once-glorious culture,” she lamented.

“Is there no way to reverse these effects, these consequences?” Naia asked.

Mythal smiled. “I’m glad you asked. There is always hope, _da’len._ As you know, there are still some slivers of the Fade remaining in this world, such as lyrium. But it’s not enough. Our people are weak, and they need my help.”

Naia was hanging onto her every word. The idea of restoring the culture of her people to what it once had been… _This_ was why she had studied under Deshanna as Clan Lavellan’s First. “How can I help?” she asked.

The goddess smiled fondly, and her eyes seemed to turn brown once again. “You, my dear child, have already helped me so much more than you know. That is why I sent the halla to your father. I knew you would go in his place to the castle. I knew you would agree to become the Dread Wolf’s bride. I was counting on you breaking the curse….” She paused, and Naia realized her mother’s eyes were welling up with genuine tears. “You see, Fen’harel was part of my plan all along, but now…”

Naia’s brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. This isn’t going to be easy to hear, _da’halla.”_  She took Naia’s hands in her own. “Fen’harel’s contract has been broken. It clearly states that the Dread Wolf must always have a bride. And that bride can never, ever leave....”

Naia shook her head. “But I already figured that out! He chose to set me free, and the sacrifice he made was very honorable, but I’ve made peace with it.”

“You… have? Naia, I don’t think you understand.”

“I understand the curse will never be broken. But I don’t mind if he must remain a Beast forever, as long as we’re together!" she declared, suddenly filled with passion. "I’ve already made up my mind; I want to be with him, with Solas. _I love him.”_

Her mother shook her head. “Oh, Naia. My sweet child. If only you could have realized that before you left,” she said in a sympathetic tone, cupping Naia’s face in her hand. “It would have broken the curse, you know."

Naia blinked at her with wide eyes. _That_ was the clause in the contract, the one thing that would have set her Beast free? She almost laughed aloud.

"That's it, then? I'm just a little too late, so now he's stuck as a Beast forever?"

"You have it all wrong, _da'len._ I'm afraid you're mistaken about one crucial thing," she said gravely.

Naia's smile faded. She was almost afraid to ask. "What's that?"

“I'm sorry to tell you this, but Fen’harel knew exactly what he was doing, when he let you go. The punishment for breaking the terms of the contract was more than merely forfeiting his freedom. ...The punishment was to forfeit his _life.”_ The words echoed in and out of Naia’s head, so loudly that she barely registered the next words. _“He’s gone.”_

 _“No,”_ Naia heard herself say in a small voice as if she were far, far away. She didn’t believe what she was hearing. There had to be a mistake. She shook her head fervently. “But I was just with him,” she insisted. She grabbed her mother’s arms, needing to hold onto something and reassure herself that all was well. “That can’t be! I was just with him,” she repeated. “I was _just_ with him! This afternoon, I was just—”

“I’m sorry, Naia, but it’s true.”

She shook her head again. “You’re joking, aren’t you? Tell me you’re joking!”

“I would not do that to you, _da’len.”_ she assured her. “Come to the Well and see for yourself.”

Naia hesitated. She knew she needed to see the truth for herself, but she was afraid of the truth. She was nearly shaking as she looked back in the direction of her father, who was still standing there, patiently, completely oblivious to her woes.

“Fine," she conceded. "Just send Father home, first.”

Her mother nodded, turning back towards the direction of her husband.

“My love,” she called out as she made her way towards him. She took his hands in hers. “It is time to go home. I think you’ve worried our children long enough.”

He nodded. “I know, _emma lath._ I just miss you so much.”

She smiled. “And I, you. But you’re needed elsewhere now.”

“Too right,” he agreed. “What about Naia?”

“Naia needs my help with something, first. You’ll see her soon, I promise. Goodbye, _emma vhenan. Ar lath ma,”_ she said sweetly. And before he could respond, Sileal disappeared into thin air.

Naia thanked her, and then they both made their way out of the forest-like illusion, back into raw Fade. Every single step filled her with more and more dread, and she thanked the Beyond when the Well finally materialized up ahead.

The reflective waters displayed a view of the castle from the outside. It was dark, but she was surprised to find a thin layer of snow illuminated in the moonlight. It never snowed at the castle. Strange how such a little bit of snow could fill her with so much worry. Were the hands of time beginning to move again?

As the image drew closer to her view, her stomach sank. There, lying in the snow, was the outline of a large, black figure. She knew at once it was her Beast.

“No!” she choked, her worst fears realized. It felt like the weight of the world had just crashed over her like a powerful wave, pulling her frail body down with it as she sank to her knees.

The image of her Beast grew closer now. His body was spread out over the ground as though he had fallen, unmoving in the frozen snow.

He was gone. He was really gone.

A light but warm pressure began to surround her, and she realized after a second it was a pair of arms. She felt so far away from her body in that moment. Being in the Fade didn’t help. She was losing her grip in this realm. Or perhaps the lyrium was wearing off.

She didn’t know how long she knelt there, wrapped within those comforting arms like a child.

 _“Da’len, look.”_ Her mother’s voice finally broke her out of her daze, and Naia willed herself to look back into the Well.

She did not know what she was looking for, at first. The wind gently blew over the castle grounds, lightly lifting the black fur on her Beast’s body. Then she realized with a gasp that it was not the only movement. His body appeared to be sinking, slowly. No, that wasn’t right. She squinted, and the body moved back upwards. He was _breathing._

“He’s still alive!”

She got to her feet. ”I have to go to him!”

Her mother looked genuinely shocked. “I didn’t even know that was possible. The contract…. Oh, what am I saying? You’re right! You should go at once! Even if there’s no hope for him… At the very least you can say goodbye! Go! While he still has breath in his body…!”

Naia nodded firmly. She felt overwhelmed, and weak, and a bit lightheaded. The lyrium must have been wearing off. Good.

Instead of her mind fading off into deep sleep, however, she awoke in the dark with a start, her face wet and body trembling. Beside her, her father still slept soundly in his makeshift bed. At least this time she knew he would wake in the morning.

Without hesitation, she stood to her feet. The entire camp was silent and dark as she peeked out of the tent opening.

She stepped outside and strained to remember which tent was Laleal’s. They all looked the same as she made her way through the line of tents. Cursing quietly, she began to call out in a hushed voice.

“Halla…. Halla, where are you? Halla? _….Bijoux!”_

There was movement from one of the tents. She didn’t have time to care if it was the right one or not. Quickly she pulled back the opening to reveal Bijoux, standing next to her sleeping brother.

Letting out a sigh of relief, she whispered, “It’s time to go. He needs us.”

The halla bowed her head instantly, allowing herself to be mounted. And then they were flying past the trees, into the night.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies! Upsetting cliffhanger is upsetting, sorry about that. I hate to leave the chapter here, but it was necessary. I hope all of you are doing better than Naia is right now. 
> 
> I must say, it’s difficult to write a character listening to a long story, rather than have them experience it firsthand (and I hope my efforts made it easy enough to read). It’s something I’ve managed to avoid for most of my story (excepting the very first chapter), but I decided it was time for Comfort simply to tell all. And now you know the truth. So what does everyone think??
> 
> Personally, I am having more fun writing the dynamic of Mythal/Syrianna’s relationship with Naia than Naia and Solas' relationship. Is that bad? But don't worry, the story will get back to focusing on those two next chapter.
> 
> Looking forward to your comments, as always! :)


	28. Chapter Twenty Seven

 

  
_At the very least you can say goodbye…._

Her mother’s words echoed in her head as Naia sped through the forest, over meadow and river and past an entire village in mere minutes.

 _I won’t need to say goodbye,_ she thought determinedly. _Because he isn’t going to die._

Finally they were riding over a lake, the castle in sight just ahead.

Naia nearly threw herself from the halla the moment they touched land. Running uphill fast as she could, she spied her Beast, still lying in the same position from before. She halted just in front of him, dropping to the ground as she caught her breath.

He was still breathing, but weakly, unevenly. His eyes were all closed. She lifted a hand to his face and began gently stroking his fur.

 _“Ara ghest,”_ she called, “It’s me; it’s Naia. I’ve come back!”

There was no response. She gave him a gentle shake.

“Did you hear me?” she asked. “I’m here, I’m back! And I am never going to leave you again. We’ll be together, I promise!” She stroked his face again, hoping the warmth from her hands might rouse him. He felt cold to touch, like he’d been out here too long. She wished she could at least move him indoors, but he was several times her size.

His breathing was growing even weaker and more staggered now, almost slowing to a stop. Blinking away tears, Naia exclaimed, “No! You can’t die, _ara ghest._ I need you!” Her voice broke. Softly, she cried, _“I need you, Solas!”_

She was silent for a moment, waiting, hoping he might move. Then she remembered what she’d come here to do, the words she needed to say: the clause in Mythal’s contract; the one thing that could save him.

It seemed strange that such a simple little declaration was all it took. Part of her doubted it would even work. But she had to say it, just as he had to know the truth. Even if this was the end…. Especially then. He needed to know she loved him as much as he loved her. Perhaps she always had. But the curse was not broken, evidently, until he heard it for himself. Until he believed in his heart that he was loved.

Naia placed a hand over his heart. She could barely feel a beat, but it was there. She smiled sadly, looking down on him.

_“I love you.”_

Nothing happened. _Of course not,_ Naia thought, because he hadn’t heard her. She leaned forward, placing her lips beside his ear. “I love you,” she said again. “I love you, Solas…. _Ar lath ma.”_

She shivered as the wind picked up around her, blowing her hair in every direction. As it grew stronger, she placed both arms around her Beast and held on tight, as though the wind could somehow blow him away. She laid her head against his body and squeezed her eyes shut. She listened for his heartbeat. It was incredibly faint. And then she wasn’t sure she heard it at all. He was completely still.

“No!” she shouted, shaking him again. “Please!”

When there was still no response, she buried her face in his fur and wept heavily.

 _“Please,”_ she gasped through thick sobs like a prayer to no one in particular.

She cried until she was certain she had no tears left. Then she lay completely still, her arms encircling her Beast’s massive form, eyes closed and oblivious to the world around her. There was no more feeling, no concept of time. Even the cold had stopped bothering her.

Then the giant, solid body beneath hers moved.

Slowly, slowly it seemed to be sinking towards the earth. But Naia was not completely certain she could trust her senses. She forced her eyes open and blinked.

The first thing she noticed was the sun had broken over the horizon. All around her, the snow was beginning to melt under the golden rays of dawn. She looked down towards her Beast.

His form seemed to have shrunken greatly. No, that wasn’t right. She grasped his fur, and realized with a gasp that it was no longer attached to a body. It was nothing but a large wolf pelt, in a pile on the ground in front of her.

Something shifted beneath it.

Naia pushed herself quickly off the ground and then stood back. Peeking out from under the fur was a pair of feet that were distinctly human.

The feet moved as the wolf pelt was pushed upward by unseen hands. It slid downward as the body beneath it sat upright, settling around a bare waist and covering the lower half of the man in front of her—the very alive, very real man who was blinking back at her through familiar, stormy eyes.

“S-solas?” Her voice was small and uncertain as she spoke, not entirely convinced this wasn’t a dream that might end any moment. He was exactly as she’d last seen him in the Fade, as Solas and not the Fen’harel who’d been cursed all those years ago. ...Perhaps she’d really fallen asleep, then, and they were in the Fade now.

Solas looked just as surprised as she, then his expression settled into a warm smile that spread across his cheeks and made his eyes squint in contentment.

 _“Savhalla,”_ he greeted cordially, as though nothing were amiss.

Still in a state of disbelief, Naia knelt down in front of him and reached her hand out towards him, slowly. Then she lightly pressed two fingers to his face. She could feel the flesh beneath her touch, soft and warm. But her touch and her sight were not enough to convince her this wasn’t some trick of the Fade. Remembering what Solas had taught her, she closed her eyes and listened for the hum of magic.

She thought she felt something for a second, but it was nothing like she’d felt in the Fade. In the Fade, magic was almost literally bleeding out of the rocks and ground and sky; it was all around her, all of the time. But here, now, there was nothing.

She opened her eyes.

“You’re real,” she whispered. Her hand cupped his cheek.

Solas closed his eyes and pressed his face into her touch. Then he covered her hand with his own. Turning his face, he gently pressed his lips against her open palm.

The soft touch of lips on her skin made her shiver. Or perhaps her body had remembered how chilly it was. Either way, she felt her heartbeat speed up a bit as Solas opened his eyes and found hers.

“Of course I am real, _da’halla.”_

A sound escaped Naia’s lips then, and it took her a second to realize it was a laugh. She laughed again, so completely full of joy and relief.

“Solas,” she said again, her smile so wide it nearly hurt. “I cannot believe it. I thought you were gone.”

“As did I,” he responded quite seriously. He pulled her still-outstretched hand down with his and intertwined their fingers. His gaze was fixed on their hands, examining them closely. "It is a strange sensation," he noted, "not having to consistently concentrate on recreating the memory of being in this body."

She smiled. “I imagine after all this time, it feels wonderful to finally be in a human form again,” she noted, then quickly corrected herself. “Or, well, not exactly _human.”_ She reached out with her other hand and ran a finger over the point of his ear. The corner of his lip turned upward.

“Indeed,” he breathed, relieved. He met her eyes. “And to you, my savior, I believe I owe my gratitude.”

Naia shook her head. That title was completely unwarranted. “I’m just so relieved you’re alive,” she confessed, unable to break away from his stormy gaze. “Solas, I love you,” she said, because it needed to be said again. It needed to be said every day.

He smiled. “Yes, I know, _vhenan,"_ he said sweetly. _"Ar lath ma."_

Her heart seemed to skip a beat at the sound of those words. It was not the first time he’d said them to her, but he had never called her _vhenan,_ before. _Vhenan:_ my heart. He thought of her as his heart. A thing without which a person cannot go on living.

She placed a timid hand over his bare chest and found the steady rhythm there. He watched her curiously, eyes full of adoration, it seemed.

He carefully took her hand from his chest then and slowly raised it to his lips, pausing just before he kissed her fingers. Her breath sped up again and she wondered how much more hand-kissing she could take before he decided to move on to her lips already. It seemed long overdue, by now.

Then again, perhaps he was leaving that decision up to her. She pulled her hand away from his mouth and, without giving it too much thought, leaned forward, pressing her lips to his.

She could feel his smile against her mouth as they kissed, and she let her arms find their way around him. His body was warm now, and his lips were welcoming as she pressed against them.

His hands were on her back then, pulling her closer to him. It was like a perfect fit, the two of them, holding each other like this. Then Naia seemed to remember that he wasn’t wearing anything on the upper half of his body. Come to think of it, she wasn’t sure the lower half was clothed, either. Reluctantly, she pulled away.

“Solas,” she said, quickly looking him up and down. ”You’re not… _completely_ naked under there, are you?”

His eyes followed hers downward, though he didn’t need to look. He shifted uncomfortably beneath the cover of the wolf pelt. “It… would appear so, yes.”

The tips of his ears were pink, she noted, but perhaps he was cold. Or perhaps he was embarrassed; she could not be sure. Strangely enough, Naia did not find the situation the least bit embarrassing. She simply laughed, then stood and offered him her hand.

“Why don’t we get you inside?” she asked.

He nodded, then proceeded to wrap the pelt around him as best he could. Fortunately for his dignity, it was very large and covered most of his body. It was a good thing too, because as they moved to head back to the castle, the front doors were suddenly flung wide open.

A large number of people began pouring out of the castle, one after the other. Naia just stared at the spectacle, mouth slightly agape. Many of them were talking, some were shouting—whether in anger or in joy she could not say. It was all happening so quickly, she didn’t know what to make of it.

There were too many of them to count. A few of them noticed Solas and Naia right away, while others were too caught up in the excitement to even look in their direction. One thing they did have in common was that they all seemed very relieved to be out of that castle.

“W-where did...? And… who?” Naia managed to say amidst all the commotion. Solas was very quiet, his expression a mix of emotions as he shook his head. A handful of these people were headed straight for them, and as they drew closer Naia noticed that their ears were pointed, just like Solas. They may as well have come straight from ancient Arlathan.

Solas stepped forward as they approached.

 _“So it is true,”_ he spoke in his native tongue. _“You were here, all along. You are all still here….”_ He stopped, seeming to choke on his words. Naia watched with a furrowed brow, completely lost. He seemed nearly happy, at first, but then his expression turned to one of sorrow. _“I am so sorry,_ _lethallen.”_

One of the men spoke, then, and Naia was certain she’d seen his face before, somewhere.

_“My Lord, why do you apologize? What has happened? The last thing I recall was the All-Mother, coming to warn us of a great danger. She told us not to worry, and offered her protection. The next thing I know, my brethren and I are crowded quite uncomfortably in the library, hundreds of us, all rousing as if from an enormous slumber.”_

Naia was even more confused now, until she remembered where she’d seen this man. He had been one of the slaves harbored by Fen’harel. She’d seen him, in the Well, the day Fen’harel removed the markings from his face. And suddenly it became very clear. These were the slaves the Dread Wolf had rescued, the ones he had been hesitant to talk to her about. All Naia had known of their fate was that Mythal had given her word to help them escape after Fen’harel was cursed. But judging from what the man had said, it sounded as though they’d never actually left the castle….

 _“The library,”_ Naia repeated the man’s words aloud. They’d woken up in the library. She had a sneaking suspicion about that. Those ancient Elvhen tomes she’d studied—with their mysterious presence and their staring eyes, hadn’t they seemed… alive? But that couldn’t be right. Could it? Had… had Mythal really turned these poor people into _books,_ only to be awakened when the curse was lifted?

“Those tomes, Solas, the ones with the eyes... Were they…?” she could barely finish the thought aloud. _Were they alive? Were they people, all this time?_

He stared at her, a look which told her he knew about as much as she did. “I think, perhaps, you may be on to something.”

That had to be it. A strange explanation, to be sure, but no stranger than the sudden appearance of hundreds of elvhen people pouring out of her library. Naia laughed at the absurdity of it all.

“That’s….” Her face fell. “That’s _awful.”_ All these people, ages ago, had been transformed into nothing but parchment and binding. And though they clearly had no recollection of the event, it still seemed unnecessarily cruel. What had Mythal been thinking? Naia turned to Solas.

“To think, all this time they were trapped, just like you. And you had no idea?” she asked.

He seemed genuinely upset. “I had suspected something like this might have happened, but I had no way to be sure. I believe Mythal must have… worked it into the contract, somehow, without anyone noticing. She evaded all of my incessant questioning, naturally; she kept assuring me they were safe and that I needn't worry. But I knew if my suspicions were correct that their fate was inescapably tied to mine. That is why I was so determined to break the curse at any cost. Even if it meant….” He hung his head, lowering his voice in shame. “Even if I had to comply with a contract that required me to… to kidnap maidens and hold them captive like a villain from some shemlen tale.”

Naia stared at him, wide-eyed. This was what he’d had to live with, the secret burden he’d been carrying for ages. He’d had no one to talk to about it, no way to even prove it was true. No wonder he felt such guilt and shame when it came to the slaves he’d freed. He hadn’t really freed them, after all. They’d unwittingly shared his curse, frozen in time like everything else in that castle.

But they were free now.

Solas turned back to the man. _“I am afraid you have all been asleep for a very long time, my friend,”_ he said.

The elvhen man simply nodded in understanding. _“It certainly feels that way. How long has it been? What have we missed?”_

_“All of your questions will be addressed in good time, lethallin. I think it best we make certain everyone is settled and accounted for, first.”_

_“I can do that,”_ said the man with a determined nod. Then he turned and headed back into the fray.

Satisfied, Solas turned his attention back to Naia.

“It looks as though you received more than you bargained for, _da’halla._ These people have you to thank for their freedom, as well,” he said with a small grin. But Naia was mortified as she thought about what that meant. What would have happened if she hadn’t come back? If Solas had died, would all these people have died as well? Or would they have been set free? Perhaps they merely would have remained asleep for all eternity. Either way, if she’d known so much was at stake, she would have told Solas she loved him much sooner. She certainly had a lot to say to Mythal now, given all of this new information.

“This is unbelievable. Solas, what are they going to do? What are _we_ going to do?”

“To be completely candid: I do not know. I suppose I will need to figure that out along the way. There is much work to be done,” he said, already looking tired as he said it. Naia placed a hand on his back, lovingly.

“I’m with you,” she assured him with a smile. “Whatever you need. We’ll figure it out together.”

“You have my thanks, _vhenan._ These people are every much my responsibility as your family is yours.”

“My family,” she repeated. Naia’s eyes widened as she realized she’d left them without a word. Again. Not even a note, this time.

The sun was rising. Soon her family would be, too, along with her father. They would wonder where she was or whether she was alright.

“They don’t know I’m gone yet,” she said, remembering how late they’d stayed up last night. “Or if they do, I owe them an explanation.”

Solas nodded patiently. “Go to them. I will take care of things here in the meantime.”

She looked back at the massive crowd of disoriented people standing outside the castle. “If you say so,” she said with a sympathetic look, followed by a reassuring grin.

The two parted ways shortly after that, with Naia promising to return by the end of the day. And just like that, she left the castle behind for the second time, a much different experience than the first. She was…blissful. And a bit perplexed. But blissful, nonetheless. Things were changing all around her, and very quickly. Her future, not to mention the future of her people, was terribly unclear. And as she travelled on the back of the enchanted halla, halfway between her two homes, Naia Lavellan smiled to herself.

She did love a good adventure.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my dear readers, and thank you again for joining me on this journey—the main part of which has officially come to a close. After two whole years on this ride, I am amazed to look back at what I’ve achieved. I’ve never written and completed a novel-length story before, but this one really grabbed my imagination and my heart, and I knew I had to finish it. And I am truly grateful for all the Solavellan fans who have read and commented and supported me.
> 
> As you may have noticed, I’ve left a few loose ends to be tied up, yet. These will be addressed in the epilogue. It will be a bit lengthy for an epilogue, however, so it will be split up into parts- but I intend to post them all at once. This means there will be a brief hiatus while I work on getting that to you. I may go back and do some more editing on past chapters, too.
> 
> If you liked this story, I ask that you please leave your feedback in the comments. Even if it’s two words. I love reading what people have to say, and I am more than willing to listen to suggestions for what you would like to see or which questions you’d like answered in the epilogue. :)
> 
> Thank you again, and I hope everyone has a lovely holiday!


	29. Epilogue, Partie Un

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi readers and Happy Valentine's Day! This is a holiday I do not celebrate, but I somehow got sentimental and decided you all deserve an update today: the most romantic chapter I've written so far, on the most romantic day of the year. The love story of beauty and (no longer) beast continues in part one of the epilogue! I hope you enjoy this preview!
> 
> I still plan to post the remaining parts of the epilogue all at once, so do expect a continued hiatus followed by one final update sometime in the (hopefully) near future.

 

The castle was alive with movement and sounds that morning. For hundreds and hundreds of years, the Dread Wolf’s home had been nearly empty and quiet, but lately there did not appear to ever be a moment of calm.

The castle had also been enchanted, once upon a time. But that was changing, too.

Naia Lavellan carefully stepped around a small crowd of people who had gathered in the foyer, and made her way out the front door. A small brown satchel hung loosely from her left hip, swinging back and forth with every step. Her unruly hair had been hastily tied up and away from her face. She wore no shoes on her feet, and her dirt-covered skirts were hiked up to reveal leg bindings underneath, making it much easier for her to move about.

She hadn’t worn a proper, shemlen-style dress since before the curse was broken. Usually the castle would have one waiting for her every morning, but she hadn’t actually slept at the castle in weeks. Her evenings and nights were spent with her family and Clan Lavellan, picking up the pieces of that life. Her days, meanwhile, were spent here at the castle, helping Solas and his people to settle in and create some sense of sustainability.

Sustainability was beginning to prove a problem, however. The castle had been enchanted by Fen’harel once upon a time to provide everything for its inhabitants, but lately it was having some trouble keeping up. Naia assumed at first that it was due to the sudden and tremendous increase in residents, but when she asked Solas about it, he’d shaken his head.

“That enchantment was never meant to last this long,” he’d explained. “I suspect it was riding on the back of the curse’s magic all this time. Now that the curse is broken, the castle is gradually losing that magic.”

Naia had set to work after that, looking for ways to ensure everyone in the castle had all the provisions they needed. And while the people quickly managed to work out a system for cleaning up after themselves, food was beginning to become a major concern as less and less of it appeared in the dining hall each day.

As Naia made her way over to the gardens, she spied a small group of people over by the lake. Some of them were washing garments while others hung them to dry on a nearby tree. One of the women noticed her there and waved to her. Naia waved back.

Solas had made sure everyone knew Naia’s name fairly quickly, and happily told them the (highly condensed) story of how she broke the curse that plagued them all. He also insisted on telling them that she was the castle’s co-owner. This was technically true, but having hundreds of people treat her as such was odd, to say the least. Since then, she’d learned the names of about half the people there, only to forget them all over again.

Having to ask for people’s names again in broken elvhen had been a horribly unpleasant experience, until Naia found a way to cheat. Cole, who had been confused but otherwise pleased to be around people who were not afraid of him for once, did not need help remembering anyone’s name. He just instinctively knew them all, and reminded Naia whenever she needed it.

When she wasn’t dodging awkward conversations, Naia managed to have more than a few pleasant ones in between. She got along well with most of the people she met, and as a plus, her elvhen language comprehension improved greatly. It was strange speaking to these people, knowing that they were ex-slaves who’d lived truly difficult lives, hundreds and hundreds of years ago. She often found herself unsure what to say around them, so mostly she just listened. She asked them to tell their stories, if they were so inclined, and she listened to them.

She found that all of the people here revered Solas not as a deity but nonetheless as their savior, while Solas consistently treated all of them as his brothers and sisters. He’d often be found among them, talking with them, listening to their concerns, or assisting them with whatever task needed the most attention. She’d expected no less from the man she’d fallen in love with, but it was still a pleasant surprise whenever she came across it.

With everything going on these past few weeks, Naia and Solas had spent hardly any time together, each having their own set of separate responsibilities. And even when they were together, they were never alone. It should have been maddening, but whenever Naia’s thoughts drifted towards her newfound love, she delved into her work with even more focus and determination.

While keeping busy proved an effective distraction, Naia still found herself from time to time asking for Solas’ whereabouts, and then making excuses to go and be where he was. But she didn’t have to rely on that tactic too much—even in a castle as massive as theirs, the two of them seemed to gravitate towards each other, never close enough but somehow always nearby. They shared private smiles whenever they passed each other in the hall, and their arms almost always managed to brush against each other, but Naia suspected that was deliberate on Solas’ part. He was usually much more respectful of personal space.

They also still ate dinner together each evening, along with just about everyone else, before Naia would leave to go back to camp. And each night just before she left, Solas would take her aside, hold her for a long moment, kiss her chastely and wish her a safe journey. It was the highlight of her day, even though Naia longed to be in his arms just a little longer. But she could never stay for long; the clan expected her back before late, and it was bad enough lying to them about where she went each day.

At least this time her family knew the truth.

Naia reached the gardens and looked around to admire her handiwork (or rather, her and the handful of elvhen men and women who had volunteered). In every spot where there wasn’t already a plant, the earth had been completely dug up. The place was an absolute mess. She grinned to herself as she reached for the satchel around her waist.

Inside the satchel were seeds of all kinds, taken from what few vegetables she could salvage from the latest meals the castle had provided. Naia began scattering them over the ground in evenly-spaced rows. Then she knelt down in the dirt and started to fold it carefully over the seeds. If the castle could no longer provide food, she would just have to grow her own. Years of living on a farm had prepared her for that.

It felt good to get her hands dirty again, she had to admit to herself. After the last seed had been sown, Naia wiped her brow with the back of her wrist and looked up at the sky. It was cloudy, and highly likely to rain that afternoon. Perfect. Satisfied with the morning’s work, she turned to head back inside, but something caught her eye just before she exited the gardens. Something small and fuzzy and _pink._

 

* * *

 

“Did you know there are _rabbits_ in the gardens?” Naia asked when she finally found Solas, who was lugging not two but three buckets of water up the stairs. She frowned as she watched him perform a sort of balancing act, amusing as it was.

Solas raised a brow. “Is that so?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “We found a secret nook in one of the gardens. There are loads of them, and they’re bound to keep multiplying, as rabbits do.” She furrowed her brow. “At least, I _think_ they’re rabbits. They’re sort of… hairless. And ugly. And yet slightly cute at the same time? It’s difficult to describe.”

Solas nodded. “In elvhen we call them _oinmun._ Their kind died out long ago,” he explained as he rounded a corner. A tiny bit of water spilled over the edge of one bucket and he halted, letting a quiet expletive escape his lips. Naia sighed and held out out her arm, indicating for him to hand her one of the buckets.

“So where did they come from, all of a sudden?” she asked as she took the bucket from him and they resumed their ascent.

“That would be the castle’s doing.”

“I figured that much, but how? I’ve never seen any animals here before. Not even birds, come to think of it.”

“Not during the day, no. While the castle was providing your meals in the daytime, it also provided for my... _specific_ dietary needs at night. You were witness to that unpleasantry, once.”

Oh, right. Naia nodded. “I suppose a few of them managed to survive and procreate, then,” she concluded. However it had happened, she was grateful. It gave her a useful idea. “...Solas, did the ancient elves ever make _oinmun_ stew?”

He chuckled. “Yes, I recall it was quite popular amongst the commoners and slaves. I don’t believe I’ve ever tried it, myself.”

Naia grinned. “Well, you can look forward to trying something new tonight,” she said.

He didn’t respond, only turned and walked through the open doorway they had reached. Naia followed him through, and they met a few women who’d evidently been waiting for him. Solas handed the buckets off to them, and Naia followed suit. The women thanked them and left.

“Naia,” he said thoughtfully once they had gone, turning to face her and capturing her gaze.

“Yes?” she responded.

Solas wore a curious but amused expression. He reached out a hand towards her face and Naia froze in place. She didn’t know what he was going to do, but as his palm touched the side of her face, she found her entire body inclining towards him, and her heart sped up in anticipation.

He rubbed his thumb over her brow and then let go.

“You had dirt on your face,” he explained with the slightest hint of a teasing grin.

Naia’s face reddened, but not out of embarrassment. It was the first contact they’d had all day, and she realized with a sigh that she needed much more than that.

“Th-thanks,” she replied.

He studied her for a moment with a thoughtful look.

“Did you really come and find me just to inform me of our dinner menu tonight?” he asked.

“...No,” she confessed. _No, of course not,_ she wanted to say. She opened her mouth to continue, to tell him she craved his company so much that it was beginning to drive her mad. Not too long ago, they’d spent nearly every waking hour together. But Naia, being a realistic person, would have settled for just an hour. Or at least a real conversation. Alone.

“Why don’t we go somewhere and talk?” Solas asked, sensing her need. Naia exhaled slowly, relieved by the suggestion.

“Yes, let’s,” she agreed happily, but there was still something missing as she turned and followed him back down the stairs. Suddenly the idea of simply _talking_ no longer occupied Naia’s thoughts.

They were interrupted a handful of times as Solas led them in the general direction of the library. Each time, Solas asked the same thing: _“Can it wait a little longer, lethallin? I am on a terribly important errand.”_ And each time, the answer was, thankfully, _“Yes.”_

“You don’t have to lie to them, Solas,” Naia pointed out as they entered the hallway that led to the library. That was another thing that had changed since the curse had broken. The great trickster Fen’harel could finally lie again, but Naia had the sneaking suspicion that he’d gotten worse at it for lack of practice. He seemed to have a difficult time keeping anything from her, at least.

“I am not lying to them,” Solas replied quite seriously. “Your needs are of the highest importance to me.” He stopped just outside the library doors and reached for her hands. Her entire body seemed to relax as soon as they made contact. “I beg your forgiveness _, emma lath,_ if I have not made that clearly known to you by now,” he said sweetly.

Naia felt about as light as air, and was certain she might float away if Solas had not been holding onto her. But then he let go, and she didn’t. He turned and pushed open the library doors.

The place was blessedly silent. A handful of people were talking quietly on the chairs by the fireplace, but they didn’t bother to look up from their conversation. Solas motioned for Naia to follow him all the way up to the third story. There was no place to sit there, but at least they could talk in private.

He led her all the way to the back corner of the farthest row of books.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked as he casually leaned against the wall opposite the shelves.

Naia sighed. “So very many things.”

“Then choose one, and I will do my best to be of assistance.”

Naia wanted so very much to choose _him,_ to tell him that he was on her mind more than anything else and that she wanted to simply be with him. She wanted him to hold her and tell her he felt exactly the same. She wanted the rest of the castle to be frozen in time again, just for a minute, an hour, a day.

Instead, stupidly, she said, “I miss visiting the Fade every night. I haven’t seen my mother in weeks.”

Naia was certain bringing up her mother was the absolute last thing Solas wanted to hear, and she mentally kicked herself for it, but he just smiled politely and nodded.

“I have been looking for her myself, actually.”

Her brow furrowed. “Why would...?” Oh, right. She shook her head. “Sorry, sometimes I forget my mother and your old friend are one in the same, now.”

Solas nodded. “I am still getting used to that knowledge, myself. In any case, I have not been able to find her anywhere in the Fade.”

“Oh? Should we be concerned?”

“With Mythal? Always. I am almost certain she is up to something, but I would not worry about it,” he said with a reassuring smile.

Naia worried about it anyhow, but decided not to say as much.

“Was there anything else you needed, _vhenan?”_ he asked then. There was that word again. He spoke one little word and suddenly Naia couldn’t remember any of the things that had been occupying her mind. All the concerns of the day were gone in an instant, and she didn't know what to say.

Her gaze dropped from his eyes to his well-defined cheekbones, and finally to his lips, those lips that spoke sweet words and kissed her gently (perhaps a little too gently). She bit her bottom lip as she remembered his touch on her face, her arms, and her back as he kissed her goodbye each evening. There were so many places those hands and lips hadn’t yet explored.

Her eyes dropped lower as she took in the state of his garments, a little less pristine than the clothes he’d fashioned for himself in the Fade. The top laces of his tunic were loosened to expose his bare chest. He wore leg bindings underneath his trousers, similar to hers, and also without shoes. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and she found herself strangely hypnotized by his lower arms for some reason she could not possibly explain.

Solas cleared his throat and Naia snapped her gaze back to his.

“Um, y-you….”

“Me?” he repeated, eyebrow raised. He leaned towards her, placing both arms behind his back and grinning seductively. “What do you need of me, _vhenan?”_ he asked in a lowered voice that caressed her ears like sweet music. Their faces were inches apart now, and Naia nearly forgot how to breathe. She gripped the shelf behind her for support.

He was toying with her. No matter how much the man had changed both inside and out, he still had that playful, trickster side to him that just loved to get a reaction from others. But she knew him too well. She knew his heart, which was kind and beautiful, caring and selfless, and Naia regained her composure for one brief, victorious moment. She shook her head at her playful lover, a small smile forming on her lips.

“Solas, are you going to kiss me or not?” she asked impatiently, and the instant the words left her lips, his mouth was on hers.

Solas’s hand found the small of her back, and the other made its way around the back of her head, gently fastening the two of them together. His body, pressed lightly against hers, was wonderfully warm and she thought she might melt in his arms as she pressed herself closer to him. Her hands found his chest and she gently dug her fingernails into the front of his tunic while his lips worked their magic on hers.

His kisses were short and sweet at first, then gradually grew longer and more heated. Naia parted her lips slightly, greedily breathing him in for a while until she remembered that air was a bodily requirement. As if on cue, Solas removed his mouth from hers, only to begin placing a trail of heated kisses down the side of her neck that made Naia’s head lean back and her toes curl against the carpeted floor.

Both of his hands were on her back now, trailing lower until they settled just at the top of her curves. Everywhere he touched was fire and she involuntarily pushed her hips towards his as her entire body filled with pure need and new sensations she'd never before felt.

His lips continued to their descent on her neck, pausing for a moment to suck at the sensitive skin where her neck met her shoulder. Naia lost all thought and let out a breathy sigh, which in turn seemed to encourage Solas more. He kept at it, alternating between kissing and sucking, until her sighs grew more and more audible and Naia nearly lost her mind completely.

“S-solas,” she called softly, barely able to form the word. He paused what he was doing, and everything in her body screamed for him to start again. But she knew in her mind that she could not allow this to continue. Not here and not now, at least.

“Mm?” he murmured against her neck.

“We have to stop,” she said reluctantly. “Someone might hear, or see….” They weren’t exactly out in the open, but it was true, and Naia valued their privacy far too much to compromise it at a time like this.

He let go of her and pulled away, to Naia’s dismay, meeting her eyes and nodding firmly.

“I suppose one of us must be sensible enough to know when to stop,” he said, steadying his breath.

“It wasn’t exactly easy,” she confessed.

His hand reached for hers, closing around her fingers. “Nor for me,” he admitted. “If you hadn’t spoken up just now….” He paused, watching her through curious, grey eyes, and then shook his head. “You cause me to lose all sense, sometimes, _vhenan._ I do not know how you do it.”

Naia had to look away as she took in the flattering confession. He drew lazy circles on the palm of her hand, and she fixated on that for a moment instead. So it wasn’t just her, then. It was nice to know she had a similar effect on Solas to the one he had on her. She smiled at the thought.

Solas lifted her chin in his other hand and met her eyes.

“Shall we get back to work, then?” he asked.

Naia frowned. “If you insist.”

Solas grinned, then moved in and quickly brushed his lips against hers before letting go altogether.

Naia touched her fingers to her lips as she watched him disappear into the stacks. They were still tingling from his kiss, and a contented sigh escaped them.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oinmun is elvhen for nug! I know, I know. Gross. Don’t tell Leliana!


End file.
